The Masterpiece of Nature
by Cassie's Bedlam
Summary: The heart of a father is the masterpiece of nature - Antoine Prevost. Hayley Collins; genius, SHIELD agent, and Tony Stark's daughter? She was his dirty-little secret, the result of his first attempt of being a playboy, and the apple of his eye. This is her story. Hiatus
1. Chapter 1

Tony should have known something was wrong when he caught sight of his father in the crowd of delighted parents at his graduation, he had stupidly been pleased though and naïvely thought he was there because he was proud of him—who was he kidding? Howard Stark proud of his disappointing son? Who wasn't perfect likely his old pal Captain America.

He had waved Rhodey off as he headed to his father, his steps slowing when he got a good look at his disapproving face and dark disappointed eyes as he frowned at his son.

"Dad…?"

"Home, now." Howard Stark told him before spinning on his heel and heading towards their sleek dark car.

Tony followed with a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, and slid into the back of the car after his father.

"Dad?" he asked as the engine purred to life and their driver pulled away from MIT.

"Jarvis had already packed your things in your dorm and has taken them home." Howard informed him almost stiffly.

"What have I done?" Tony asked his father as he tilted his head back and peered through the darkened window.

"What haven't you done?" Howard asked with a hint of anger as he refused to look at his son. "I sent you to MIT to earn degrees, prove to the world that you're not the spoiled brat they think you are and you're intelligences isn't hyped-up bullshit. I didn't pay for you to party and become an actual fuck-up."

"Ouch." Tony winced in a way that was only half-fake. "What have I done to go from a perceived fuck-up to an actual one?"

Howard scoffed as he turned his head to look at his son.

"You don't even know, do you?"

"I wouldn't be asking if I knew what I had done," he gritted out.

Howard just shook his head in disgust and the rest of the ride was in silence.

* * *

_Oh shit_, was the first thought that entered his mind as he stared at the tiny form that his mother was cradling. _So that's why Dad's pissed with me_.

His mother looked up with fond dark hazel eyes—at least she's happy, he thought idly.

"Isn't she beautiful, Tony?" Maria asked as she swept closer to her son, letting him see the tiny peaceful face of the toddler's—Toddler!—face.

Tony let out a strangled sound as he stared down at the baby.

"She's got your cheekbones." Maria continued, seemingly unaware of her son's slow break down, as she brushed a slim olive-toned finger down the chubby cheek—it didn't have proper cheekbones yet!

"It's…it's…" Tony strutted and Howard smirked as he swirled his amber liquid in his tumbler.

"She's your daughter." Howard told him with too much joy as he watched his son's ashen face and wide eyes stare at him. "Congratulations."

He was seventeen with ten-month-old daughter.

_I'm so going to make sure I'm wearing a condom from now on_. Tony thought to himself as he stared at his daughter.

* * *

Her name was apparently Hayley Maria, her mother was some girl called Sophie and could been arrested for statutory as she had been eighteen when Tony had been fifteen when he knocked her up. She came all the way to New York when she realised she was pregnant and told the Starks that Tony was the father, Howard had been doubtful but had paid for everything she needed for her pregnancy on the off-chance that it was true and to stop her from going to the press.

Moments after her birth, Hayley was pricked with a needle and her blood taken so they could run a paternity test, and it came back that she was a Stark. Howard paid Sophie five-grand for her to sign over her rights as mother and another ten-grand to keep her silent as Howard refused to let a Stark—even a bastard one—be raised by someone else while Maria had fallen in love with her granddaughter the moment she held the tiny baby.

Sophie left the hospital after a day and they hadn't heard from her since which Howard had been pleased about. Tony didn't know how to feel about the mother of his daughter signing away her rights to Hayley for five-grand, or the fact that Sophie hadn't tried to fight for a place in her daughter's life.

At the moment, Hayley had no surname as Howard didn't want to openly acknowledge that his son had fathered a bastard while Maria was all for it—Tony was too numb with shock to have a proper opinion.

He simply sat in an armchair holding his daughter as he watched his parents fight it out—Hayley amazingly slept through it all.

"She's our granddaughter." Maria protested as she stood almost protectively in front her son and granddaughter.

"A bastard, think of the scandal Maria!" Howard implored his wife.

"Screw the scandal!" Maria snapped fiercely.

Howard glared at his stubborn wife for a moment before switching tracks.

"If we acknowledge her, then every enemy of ours will gun for her as she's the weakest member of our family." Howard said making Maria frown at him.

"We will protect her!" she argued.

"Like we protected Tony?" He raised an eyebrow and she flinched as Tony winced.

Tony had horrible memories of the few times he had gotten kidnapped as a child, had memories of his mother sobbing into his hair when he had been returned as she held him tightly, and tightened his grip around his daughter in an almost reflex—he wasn't sure what to make of his newly given daughter, but he knew that he didn't want her to go through what he went through.

"She needs a last name." Maria said though both Stark men could see the fight was leaving her. "Give her the name Collins."

Tony looked up at his mother at that, Collins was part of her double-surname though many didn't remember that.

"Okay." Howard said at the same time as Tony did—though Tony doubted his father cared about his opinion.

* * *

Hayley Maria Collins had ocean blue eyes and dark hair that tufted up messily like Tony's did in the morning before he used his gel to get a just-shagged look instead of bed-head.

Her blue eyes shone with curiosity and intelligence, and she liked to explore things. She toddled around with her head thrust forward and picked up anything that was shiny, or remotely interesting, and would flop heavily on her bum as she studied it intently as she fiddled with it in her chubby hands—Tony would admit that he thought it was cute when he first saw it.

Maria was completely besotted with her granddaughter, swinging her up into her arms when she saw the toddler and would sit down and play with her as much as she could—like she had once done for Tony, but Maria didn't have as much free-time as she used too, she was almost constantly planning fundraisers, charity events and other gala like things.

Howard seemed indifferent to his granddaughter, but Tony was sure it was him that gave Hayley a Captain America teddy—how he found a teddy-bear that was dressed like Captain America with its own little shield, Tony would never know. Only his father would give Hayley a teddy of Captain America as he knew how Tony felt about his perfect old pal—of course Hayley was a traitor as she seemed to love the teddy which made Howard's lips tilt smugly every time he saw it in her chubby arms, Tony was the one that became smug when Hayley began chewing on the left ear of the teddy and decided she wasn't so much a traitor after all.

Tony was certain he loved the little toddler, the fuzzy warm feeling in his chest clued him in to that fact, and he wanted to protect her fiercely because she was _his_.

But Howard had been clear that they weren't going to raise Hayley for him—Tony had scoffed silently because they didn't even raise _him_—and that as he was her father, Tony was responsible of her.

Tony didn't know how to take care of babies/toddlers/or children and the books that Jarvis had kindly gotten him hadn't really helped him (the first time that Hayley had a crying-fit and Tony had to deal with it, he, himself, and almost been in tears when she finally stopped crying—he still didn't know what made her cry), and knew he needed help.

He couldn't burden Jarvis with the duty of looking after Hayley on top of everything else he did, and so decided to call up the only other person he trusted to raise his daughter—his old Nanny.

* * *

Rosabella Toloni had been Tony Stark's nanny since he was seven and his last nanny helped kidnap him, she had worked for a few years in the field for SHIELD before requesting to be put on a desk job, and knew how to defend her young charge against kidnappers and such.

She was a petite Italian with curly ebony hair, dark amber eyes that had deep smile-wrinkles around them and olive-toned skin. Tony had been taller than her since he was twelve, but she had a fierceness to her that added height to her.

Zia Rosa—as she insisted to be called—had been his favourite nanny as she was the only one he had ever trusted and she had been fond of her young charge, and had kept her own eye on him after he left for college at fourteen and no longer needed her.

So she wasn't that surprised when he called her up and asked her to come to the manor, she had already heard of a few rumours that Tony had knocked up some girl before SHIELD hushed it up for Howard, and all she had to do was pick up her packed bags and head to the manor.

Her new charge, the newest Stark though officially a Collins, wouldn't automatically be connected to the Stark family when she was seen in public. Her blue eyes were at odds with the dark eyes of the rest of the Stark family, and she didn't seem to have any real hint of Maria's olive-toned skin like Tony had a hint of.

Dark hair was common enough, and no one knew how Tony's hair tufted up in the morning as he was too vain to leave his room with bed-head at college or anywhere in public.

But there was Stark in her, Rosa could easily see it with her keen eyes. The shape of her eyes were much like Tony's and Maria's almond-shaped eyes, the set of her mouth when she frowned at something that annoyed or frustrated her was all Howard, her high-cheek-bones that one had to feel her chubby cheeks for were something that all three Stark's had though Rosa knew that Maria claimed that they were her cheek-bones.

Her eyes were mirrors of Tony's despite the different colour and lighter tone. Even as a toddler, Hayley's eyes shone with curiosity and intelligence, and had a sharp intentness to it that her father had inherited from his father. She would be trouble to any normal nanny, Rosa knew.

Luckily, Rosa wasn't a normal nanny. She had raised Tony Stark since he was eight till he was fourteen, had worked in SHIELD that handled the strange and was confident that Hayley wouldn't throw something she couldn't handle at her.

She hoped at least.

* * *

**Zia is Italian for Aunt according to Google btw. **


	2. Chapter 2

Hayley enjoyed exploring and hiding around the manor, Rosa was half-tempted to sew trackers into her clothes and would probably invest in that in later years when she got faster and more cunning.

But for now, Hayley had certain places that she liked going; the kitchen when Jarvis was cooking as he would sneak her something to eat, Tony's workshop that filled to bursting with shiny metal and her father most of the time and under her bed with her Captain teddy.

So she was still easy to find and that was why Rosa wasn't investing in trackers so soon.

* * *

His music was blasting out of the speakers and his mind was already further down the line then his swift and sure building hands as Tony built a tiny AI that he would have follow Hayley around so Rosa could find her easier when Hayley decided to play hide-and-seek.

Though he was off in his own little world, the tugging on his trousers made his body automatically react and he stopped briefly to pick up and rest Hayley on his hip and began to do what he could with one hand as she watched him with intent and curious eyes.

The egg-shaped thing would have speakers, mics and camera built-in with little wheels was shiny so Hayley wouldn't mind having it around.

His daughter was very much a magpie as she loved shiny things.

* * *

It was on her first birthday that her allergy to pineapple was found when Jarvis baked a pineapple upside down cake.

The aged Butler had looked very contrite when the Stark's private doctor, Dr David Randall, told them that her sudden fit and illness was because of the pineapple and explained her allergy to them.

(He was paid handsomely to not reveal anything about the Stark family to the vultures that were the press.)

From then on, no pineapple was allowed in the house and Rosa kept a keen eye on Hayley when she was out and didn't accept any generously given juice-boxes when they were at the park and the other nannies offered a spare one to her—Hayley was perfectly happy with her orange-juice and didn't need any of that topical juice that could contain pineapple.

* * *

Rhodey, for a simple and long moment, just stared at the toddler in the light apple green child's bedroom that was happily chewing on the ear of her Captain America teddy before glancing at the petite Italian woman.

Her mouth was smiling at him, but her sharp amber eyes dared him to make any sudden move towards her charge and she would gleefully take him down.

Rhodey didn't doubt that she would, he could now tell when someone had combat-training thanks to his military training and knew that this woman had enough training to take him down easily.

Figures that the Stark family hired killer nannies, he thought to himself.

He caught Tony shifting out of the corner of his eye, the younger man was impatiently waiting for Rhodey's reaction and part of Rhodey wanted to throttle him.

This was not something you sudden spring on to people, especially when said person was meant to be your best friend. It's something that best friends tell their best friends!

_Hey, by the way, I have a daughter do you want to meet her_? That's what Tony should have done, not what he had done.

He shouldn't have call Rhodey up when he were on his training-break and ask him to visit Tony without telling him why before taking him to see the daughter that he should have been aware of in the first place!

"I told you this would happen," he said flatly as he stared at his supposed best friend, who shifted in an almost sheepish way. "Where's the mother?"

"I dunno." Tony shrugged as he turned his gaze back to his daughter.

"Do you at least know who she was?" Rhodey sighed as he resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose.

"Some girl called Sophie." Tony told him with little care and no recognition in his tone. "Can't say I remember her."

Rhodey didn't know if he wanted to hit his head or hit Tony's head. He should have never dragged the younger male with him to college parties when he knew full-well that Tony was under-aged for basically everything that happened at a college party.

Hell, he should have kept an eye on the girls that Tony managed to chat-up and led to one of the empty bedrooms—he partly blamed himself for this, the other part blamed Tony because the so-called genius should have made sure he was properly protected before having sex with anyone.

Rhodey shook his head and looked at the toddler again. Her ocean blue eyes were familiar though he couldn't remember the face of this Sophie to go with those eyes.

"Want to be godfather?" Tony asked easily as if it wasn't an important question at all.

Rhodey stared for a long silent moment at Hayley. She was a cute kid, he would admit, and hadn't seemed to inherited Tony's more annoying habits at the moment which was good and something he could make sure didn't happen.

Rhodey _knew_ Tony, knew that fatherhood wouldn't tame his more wild-side that was barely held in check as it was. Tony wanted to act out, to drink away his dark issues with his father and fuck his way through America because he was that deprived of affection, though Rhodey knew that Maria Stark had done her best when she could, and to stroke his fragile ego that his father had done his damnedest to destroy and grid into dust.

Tony didn't know how to be a good father, Howard Stark wasn't exactly the best role-model after all, and Tony was still a kid—sure he was a genius, but he was also a seventeen-year-old guy that could barely take care of himself and obviously couldn't take care of a toddler as well which was why he had hired Rosa.

Hayley would need someone stable and responsible in her life, and though he was certain that Tony would try, being responsible wasn't something that came easily to him.

Tony loved Hayley, he could see that in the way that he looked at his daughter, but Rhodey was certain that she also terrified part of Tony, the part didn't want to grow up and take responsibility for his mistakes, who wanted to drown his daddy-issues in alcohol and numb his whirling and ever-processing mind with the same alcohol—really, Tony was too young to become an alcoholic like his old man, but that didn't really stop him.

Being a proper father for Hayley would cut into the time where Tony could simply let go and enter a designing/building frenzy.

Rhodey was certain that Tony would do his damnedest, to be a better father than Howard, and to be there was much as possible for Hayley—possible for him anyway. But the fact of the matter was that Tony wasn't ready to be a father, not yet anyway, but he would try to and he would protect her fiercely and he was trusting Rhodey to do the same.

So there was really only one answer he could give.

"Sure."

And that was how James Rhodes became the godfather of Hayley Collins (Stark).

* * *

Rosa remembered when she began to work for the Starks for the first time, remember watching as Howard drowned himself in alcohol and work while Maria tried her hardest to give all the parental affection that Tony needed in between her plans for various fundraisers and such and trying to shield that Howard was basically an alcoholic from Tony—it didn't work as Tony was a genius, and began to follow his father's path at the young age of nine when he got into Howard's supposedly secure alcohol cupboard that had an electric lock, that Rosa knew she would never be able to pick, and needed his stomach pumped after nearly giving himself alcohol poisoning.

(Rosa would always remember Maria's screams of rage as she threw expensive vases and such at her husband as she blamed him for Tony's state while Rosa sat beside the unconscious young Stark as he recovered from his first fray with alcohol.

Howard didn't try to defend himself as he dodged each explosion of glass and crystal from his enraged wife.)

She would remember the first meeting of seven-year-old Tony Stark that stared at her with dark eyes that shone with intelligence that surpassed his father's and deep-seated suspicion as he studied her intently.

She had approved his wariness though part of her was sad that such a young child already understood that not every adult that was meant to protect him and care for him would.

It took a year for her to gain his trust and she only gained when she shot down a pair of kidnappers that had knocked down Jarvis to get to the young Stark. Jarvis and Maria were the only adults he both trusted and loved, and she had saved not just him but Jarvis so she had been given his tentative trust.

(He didn't trust Howard nor did he really hate him, but he also didn't really love his father. Howard had been to distance for too long, too lost in trying to find his old pal, Captain America, and sloshed with alcohol to build a good-relationship with his son.

The relationship wasn't helped with Tony's obvious hatred of Captain America—who could blame the boy for hating the dead man who held his father's attention more than his own son?—and when Tony began to act out when he became a teenager.

It was like Tony was actively trying to seem like a real disappointment to his father than just a perceived one in Tony's mind—Rosa honestly thought that Howard wasn't as disappointed as Tony believed and he made out, he just pushed his son to hard.)

And thus could easily see the difference with how Tony treated his daughter to how Howard and Maria had treated Tony.

Tony was affectionate without being smothering, distance without being cold, and told Hayley that he loved her at least once a day.

He didn't shower her with gifts, he built her gifts mostly, and watched over her with a protective eye and liked to be kept up-to-date with how Hayley was doing during the day.

Tony was trying very hard not to make the same mistakes as his parents did, tried to show Hayley that he would be there for her when she needed him.

It reminded Rosa why she was fond of the sometimes obnoxious little brat, especially when she found him in Hayley's room with Hayley sprawled on his chest as he taught her the periodical table as a way to comfort her from a bad dream.


	3. Chapter 3

December meant snow, giant fir-trees with beautiful dainty glass, silver and crystal decorations that Grandma, Zia Rosa, Daddy and Jarvis helped her put up—Daddy always lifting her up so she could put the dainty pure silver star on the top.

It meant Jarvis making ginger-bread Santa's, houses, reindeer and snow men, it meant Zia Rose reading her Christmas stories before she went to bed, it meant flicking through glossy magazines with Grandma as she helped pick out little gifts for everyone that worked with her and Granddad.

It meant Daddy being all sneaky as he built her gift in secret, it meant Granddad was less stern and would sometimes lift her on his lap and tell her about the Stark family—she may not have the name Stark, but she was Stark in blood and she had Iron in her blood and back-bone, Granddad always told her—and old war-stories mostly starring his friend, Captain America.

It meant that Uncle Rhodey would stop-by with another teddy for her to add to her ever-growing collection, meant Daddy and Uncle Rhodey acting silly together, and all of them drinking hot chocolate together.

It meant Grandma dressing up like a princess with sparkling jewels around her throat and in her ears, of Grandma placing one of her beautiful sparkling necklaces around Hayley's neck and pressing a kiss into her dark hair as she proclaimed that Hayley was the most beautiful girl in the world and that angels and fairies were jealous of her beauty.

It meant Zia Rosa helping her hand-make all of Hayley's Christmas cards for her family, meant wearing more green and red for the festive month, and searching for the perfect gifts with Rosa.

It was meant to be happy, joyful, and wonderful because it was_ Christmas_.

It wasn't meant to be a mournful month, not meant to have death, there wasn't meant to be tears of grief, and there shouldn't be any black to wear.

Daddy wasn't meant to be sleepless and intoxicated as he stared sightless at the pile of beautifully wrapped presents that weren't ever going to be open by the full family again.

There wasn't meant to be a funeral, and Grandma and Granddad was meant to be _here_.

"Hydrogen, Helium, Lithium, Beryllium." Hayley reiterated as she scrubbed at her leaking eyes with the heels of her hands—repeating the periodic table was something that Daddy got her used to so it could help her calm down when she got stressed or panicked. "Boron, Carbon, Nitrogen, Oxygen, Fluorine, Neon, Sodium, Magnesium."

She curled up tighter around Cap—her first and favourite teddy that Granddad gave her—and stared at pattern of stars being projected on to her walls, ignoring the hitch to her chest as it hurt to breath.

Her shiny egg-shaped watch-bot chirped worriedly as he watched her, but she ignored him.

"Aluminium, Silicon, Phosphorus, Sulphur, Chlorine, Argon." Her short yet sharp nails dug into the soft flesh of her palm—Grandma and Rosa had never let her get into the habit of biting her nails. "Potassium, Calcium, Scandium, Titanium—"

"Lee!" Uncle Rhodey's loud voice broke her out of her daze and she hissed when he grabbed her small hands in his large ones.

She blinked her blue eyes in shock at the little beads of blood that were trying to break through her damaged skin as Rhodey inspected her palms carefully, his large hands tender, as tears continued their silent trail down her cheeks.

"Superficial," he muttered to himself before swinging the six-year-old girl up into his arms and took her to the nearest bathroom to rinse her palms.

"'am sorry." Hayley mumbled as Rhodey carefully padded her palms dry—it wasn't worth bandaging as they had already stopped trying to bleed. "I didn't mean too."

"I know." Rhodey rested his cheek against her soft dark hair. "I know Lee."

He held her close as her tiny body continued to shake and shudder in his hold, breathless gasps escaping her mouth as her tears choked her.

"Vanadium, Chromium," he prompted her as the periodic table always calmed her down sooner or later—Rhodey totally blamed Tony for that as he had to learn it off-by-heart as well.

"Manganese." Hayley gasped out into his chest, her little face red. "Iron." She choked on that one—Starks' have iron in their blood and back-bone, Granddad's voice reminded her, as well as iron-wills. "Cobalt, Nickel, Copper, Zinc, Gallium, Germanium, Arsenic, Selenium, Bromine." Her breathing started to calm down and her tears began to slow. "Krypton, Rubidium, Strontium, Yttrium, Zirconium, Niobium, Molybdenum, Technetium."

Outside the bathroom, Tony slid down against the wall as he listened to his daughter say each element of the periodic table in order, her watch-bot nudged at his foot sadly.

He scrubbed at his face with his hands and realised that he couldn't continue to fall apart like he was doing, Hayley needed him after all. He couldn't be selfish, he thought with a sardonic quirk of his mouth.

Everyone outside his little circle of family thought he was nothing but selfish, they would be surprised by that thought, he knew. The press would have a field-day.

* * *

Hayley understood why she couldn't have the name Stark attached to her, understood that every terrorist and enemy of the Stark family would gun for her if she was ever connected to the Stark family.

And she had never really minded before, but she downright hated it at that moment.

Because she wasn't a Stark, she couldn't seat with her Daddy and help comfort him. Hayley had to stay with Rhodey and Rosa further back in the church as mourner after mourner spoke of Howard and Maria Stark, how good people they were and how they would be missed greatly—they seemed to be talking more about Granddad than Grandma, Hayley noticed.

Rhodey held her hand throughout the funeral with Rosa being a steady presence next to her, and she took her hand as they marched behind the twinned flower-covered coffins.

Hayley didn't hear a word that the priest said as she stared blankly at the coffins, and was repeating the periodic table under her breath so she didn't burst heavily into tears again as they were gently lowered down into the ground before dirt was carelessly thrown down upon them—she was oblivious to the strange looks she was drawing from the few strangers that could hear her muttering that where put off from commenting or telling her to be quiet by twin warning looks from Rhodey and Rosa.

Death; noun; plural noun, deaths. The action or fact of dying or being killed; the end of the life of a person or organism. The state of being dead. The permanent ending of vital processes in a cell or tissue. The destruction or permanent end of something.

Logically Hayley knew what death was, she had read about it before and knew it was part of life. But logic didn't mix well with her grief, logic didn't help her understand why it was her grandparents that were dead and being covered in six-foot of earth.

Logic would never make Hayley understand why her grandparents were killed in a car-crash, and they were killed. Hayley knew that with a fierce certainty like she knew that the sky was blue because sunlight was scattered through the atmosphere, sending the light waves all over the Earth, and blue light waves were shorter than the other colours and that was why the sky was seen as blue—Daddy had taught her that and she read it in her science books so she knew it was true.

She just didn't understand why they were killed or who killed them. Those two questions would haunt her for years to come.

She was distracted by a bald-suit-clad man walking to her Daddy's side and clapping a firm hand on his shoulder.

She frowned at the tall man's back and decided she didn't like him, she didn't know why but she really didn't care. In later years, Hayley would learn that her gut instinct in not liking and trusting Obadiah Stane was the right one—unfortunately her Daddy didn't have the same gut instinct when it came to that man.

* * *

Tony, in hindsight, would admit that sending Hayley to school that January wasn't the best idea as it was the first time Hayley had ever gone to school, first time she ever had to interact for an extended amount of time with children her own age and she was still reeling from Maria and Howard's death.

Tony himself didn't have the best time in school when he started, genius was always under appreciated by other children, and should have realised that it wasn't the best idea to send his daughter to school to face the same problems he had.

Tony, however, hadn't really thought as he stared at the pile of paperwork that he needed to fill out to take control of Stark Industries that sat on the desk—it had been his father's and now was his—to really give a second-thought about sending Hayley to school.

He regretted that careless decision when Happy brought Hayley home with Hayley sporting a budding shiner around her left eye, a split lip, red-rimmed eyes and her hair choppily cut in mangled fashion.

"Shit." Tony swore as he stood, his chair falling back with the force, and knelt in front of his daughter, cupping the side of her face with his whole hand. "What happened?"

Happy's face held a dark expression and his lips were drawn angrily as he told his boss what happened to his daughter.

"Some of the brats at school didn't take kindly to Hayley's intelligence and decided to show her how much they thought of her 'showing-off'." Happy sneered, a hand resting on Hayley's slim shoulder clad in the blazer of the expensive school that Tony had picked. "Teachers said they stopped it before it got bad."

Tony's face darkened and his lips twisted into a snarl.

"So _this_ isn't bad?" he hissed with venom, his thumbs gently rubbing the tears falling from Hayley's eyes as she winced at her father's tone.

"I don't want to go back to school, Daddy." Hayley near-whispered to him and Tony tugged her close.

"You don't have to." Tony reassured his little girl. "You won't be." He pressed a kiss into her hair, frowning at the jagged edges stabbed at his jaw. "Let's get Rosa to fix this mess, huh?"

Hayley just mutely nodded which made Tony's face tighten more.

His daughter was normally cheerful and some bullies had turned her into this mute shell.

Tony decided now was the time for them to move to his newly finished home in Malibu, away from New York and its bad memories.

* * *

Hayley held back a wince as the scissors snipped and more of her hair—hair that Grandma used to brush for her after Hayley brushed hers—fell to the floor under her stool.

Rosa's hand briefly paused and squeezed her shoulder in comfort, she knew that the reason Hayley kept her hair so long was because Maria had loved it like that.

Egg—her egg-shaped shiny watch-bot—whirled angrily around her stool, camera blinking madly and annoyed chirps leaving his speakers as his camera eye glared at the strands of dark hair that littered the tiled kitchen floor though he took care not to run-over them.

Jarvis placed warm chocolate-chipped cookies on a dark plate before getting a glass of cold milk and placed both in front of her on the counter, a frown on his face at the state of his young charge.

Hayley closed her eyes as the scissors snipped and cut again, a crystal-like tear sliding down her cheek.

"Almost done." Rosa muttered to her in attempt to reassure her.

Hayley held still as the scissors snipped a few more times before Rosa's slender hand brushing the stray strands of her white-blouse clad shoulders and back.

"There you go." Rosa said as Jarvis silently handed Hayley a hand-mirror.

Hayley's blue eyes watered at the short bob that Rosa had to cut her dark hair into, but she bit back her tears. She couldn't be such a cry-baby over hair, it would grow back eventually.

Jarvis took the mirror back with a small sad but comforting smile and pushed the plate closer to her.

Hayley silently reached out for one and took a small bite of the still warm cookie while Egg watched Rosa and Jarvis brush up Hayley's dark hair, an angry chirp leaving his speakers as he watched the amount of hair being thrown away.

"Zia?" Hayley asked as she contemplated the large cookie in her hands.

"Yes, Piccolo?" Rosa asked, fingers running through Hayley's short locks to get rid of any clumps.

"I want to learn to fight." Hayley said making Rosa's fingers pause and Jarvis still in his sweeping. "I saw the punches coming. I froze and didn't know what to do." She frowned angrily, her anger directed to herself. "I didn't know how to fight back, and I never want this to happen again."

"Okay." Rosa said softly. "I'll teach you, you'll hate me training you but I'll make sure you're never in such a weak position again."

"Thank you." Hayley took another bite of her cookie, bigger this time.

"Don't thank me yet." Rosa chuckled slightly. "I haven't started yet."

* * *

**Piccolo means little one in Italian.**


	4. Chapter 4

MIT was filled with new and returning students lugging their stuff into their dorms while chatting about the latest gossip and who was throwing the next party—one new female student kept herself apart from the bedlam as she walked with a certain purpose to her dorm room, duffle-bag thrown almost carelessly over one slim shoulder while she wheeled her slim silver case over the paved quad and towards the dorm building.

Light coloured eyes cut dismissingly towards a small group of frat boys that whistled at her, plump lips pulled up in a flirty smile that dropped as soon as she passed them and flipped some of her long hair over her shoulder—she had no interest in college boys.

Her dorm room was 101, and it seemed her roommate had beat her to the double room as the door was left partly open. She let herself pause in the threshold and leaned against the frame as she watched her roommate and her interesting way of setting up her half of the room.

A propeller drone—all shiny silver metal protected by clear plastic—was dragging a thick chocolate brown fleece over the bed on the right side by one of its little claw-like hands/arms while another was holding a diagram of itself up to the wall as another pinned it in place.

A small bot—it only came to her knees, mostly humanoid in appearance with wheels—was rolling over empty cardboard boxes to flatten them with a happy chirp while another of the same type was fiddling with the stacked clothes in the right side of the rooms set of draws, hands moving almost restlessly as it patted the neatly folded clothes.

A robotic arm attached to a cube with a large camera for an eye was grabbing books from the open cardboard box beside it and handing it to the kneeling girl in front of the bookcase.

Dark hair was scrunched up in the back and fixed in place by a hairband as a pale slim hand took the offered book and placed it on the wood bookcase.

It was amazing what the young girl had built herself, the silent watcher thought to herself before something thumped into her booted feet with a high-pitched chirp.

Light toned eyes blinked in confusion at the shiny egg bot that was attempting to attack her boots before a slightly too high female voice admonished it.

"Egg!" The teen chided as scrambled awkwardly to her feet and scooping up the large egg-shaped bot with both arms before she glanced up at her roommate. "Sorry about him." A sheepish smile pulled at her full lips and showed a mouthful of metal. "He doesn't like strangers much."

"Its fine," she waved off as she studied her 'roommate'.

She was pretty though she seemed to be attempting to hide it. Large bulky black plastic glasses attempted to hide her almond-shaped oceanic blue eyes with thick bangs cupping her face. The braces fixed on her pearly white teeth subtracted from her smile for the moment though it was obvious she would have a brilliant straight smile when the braces had finished their job.

The younger girl was very petite—had to be almost a full five inches shorter than herself—and wore a baggy band t-shirt with skinny light jeans and dark converse sneakers.

"I'm Hayley Collins." The young teen introduced herself as she awkwardly shifted 'Egg' so she could offer her a hand.

"I'm Natasha Reid." Redhead Natasha introduced herself back easily as she strongly shook Hayley's offered hand, light green with a hint of blue eyes smiled at the young girl with no hint of the deceit that she was playing.

"Nice to meet you, Natasha." Hayley said as they released each other's hands and she stood back to let Natasha enter the room.

"Likewise."

* * *

To: ACDCN01FAN

From: IRONMAIDEN86

_Dad,_

_I've settled into my dorm room and have met my roommate. Her name is Natasha, and she is, of course, older than me. _

_She seemed more impressed by my robots than freaked out like the few students that peaked in through the door early were—it was like they had never seen a robot before. Is that the reaction that you had to deal with when you were at MIT?_

_I won't ask how you are, I think I have a very good idea considering the article about your new millennia party—longest lasting party in history, that must be such an honour—and I have asked JARVIS to keep me up-to-date with your well-being and such._

_I would still be appreciative if you messaged me so I know you haven't drunk yourself into a coma, caught an STD, got someone pregnant, got married or such since the last time I've seen you._

_Love Hayley._

* * *

Tony let out a long sigh as JARVIS finished the e-mail, ending his imitation, very accurate, of Hayley's sarcastic tone in parts of it.

He tilted his head back against the back of his armchair, holding his almost-empty tumbler with his fingertips.

He had sworn to be there for Hayley after his parents' death, and he had honestly tried, but then Jarvis' old heart finally gave out and that pushed him back over the edge so to speak.

The gossip articles that proclaimed him as a playboy and a drunk were actually true after a while, something that Rosa didn't approve of at all and had decided to move Hayley out of the Malibu mansion and into their own little place.

It turned out to be the right move as without Howard Stark's looming stern frame behind him, the press had no problem with invading his privacy and Tony didn't like to think how the press would have spun the tale of his 'secret-love-child' and most likely invade the privacy of his little girl, terrifying her more of people and making her like robot-company even more than she already did—which wasn't a total bad thing as Tony would never have to worry about Hayley bringing home a boyfriend.

But it had made a distance between them, a distance that Tony had never wanted between them, a distance that reminded him too much of his relationship with his own father—luckily without the barely bottled resentment, well of disappointments of both sides and an total absence of Captain-fucking-America.

Recently, Tony had been trying again to be close to her like he had when she was little, but she had been too busy getting ready for College, now she was at College and he had backed off.

Hopefully they could repair their relationship when she finished College, he didn't want his only child to hate him after all.

* * *

To: Director

From: Black-Widow

_Status Report on Project Successor._

_By Natasha Romanoff, Black Widow._

_For Director Fury's eyes only._

_Subject: Hayley Maria Collins_

_Collins' intellect seems to already greatly surpasses Tony Stark's, already she has built a number of bots that seem to have A.I in-built as well (enclosed in this email is pictures of some of her designs). She seems rather shy—obviously not used to human contact—but it's obvious that she's a curious, yet private, person. (Nothing truly personal has been put on display in our shared room, a good habit to have.)_

_She's well-read (enclosed in this email is a list of the books on her bookcase at the moment). She's obviously had some type of defence training in the past, there is still some awkwardness to her movements that further training will remove._

_I believe she could be a good field-agent in the future given further training and more confidence built-up in her—I believe a friendly approach would work best for her. It would waste her potential if she was shut-up in a lab all-day. _

_(I would also suggest she learns to run and fight in heels, her height is too unimpressive to be taken seriously though that could be used in her favour on some missions. Heels would add presences and height to her, it will only help her in the long run._

_I would also like to add that I wouldn't object to being her mentor in the future.) _

_Over all I find her a good candidate to join us in the future. _


	5. Chapter 5

To IRONMAIDEN86

From ACDCN01FAN

_Hey,_

_How is things going? Classes alright?—who am I kidding? You're probably teaching the teacher a few things huh? You're my daughter after all._

_I know I haven't been the best father in the world, but you know I love you right? I'll make it up to you, I promise._

_Please, Lee, don't push me away like I pushed away your Granddad._

_Love you Kid,_

_Dad x_

* * *

TO ACDCN01FAN

From IRONMAIDEN86

_Things are going good, Natasha is still trying to be my friend which is strange, and classes are easy as to be expected._

_I'm not pushing you away Dad, I'm just busy and so are you. You don't have to make anything up to me as I understand you were hurting from Grandma, Granddad and Jarvis' sudden deaths—Uncle Rhodey always said you were still a child at heart, you were just acting out. _

_I love you too,_

_Hayley x_

* * *

Natasha had quickly realised that Hayley didn't need her glasses, her movements were too sure in the mornings when she reached for them for her to really need them. Natasha didn't really understand why she wore them if she didn't need them as they detracted from her looks, though perhaps that's why she wore them—to hide her pretty face from the world, but why?

"Why do you wear glasses? You don't need them." Natasha pointed out one day, lounging on her bed with her psychology book laid facedown with its spine bent.

She watched, curious, as Hayley's hand paused over her newest little bot—she seemed to be always working on one of them, Natasha didn't really mind as it was fascinating what she could do and the bots kept their room neat and tidy—before she spun in her chair to face Natasha.

"What do you mean?" Hayley played innocent.

It was a decent attempt, but Natasha had perfected the innocent look years ago so it didn't fool her—it was telling though, Hayley Collins was used to lying and was quite good at it. It was an interesting titbit.

"You move with too much confidence to be partially blind in the mornings." Natasha pointed out drily.

"You're smart." Hayley returned in the same tone making Natasha smirk a bit.

"No need to sound so surprised," she waggled two of her slim fingers at the younger girl as she pulled off her bulky glasses.

"Most people, from what I've seen, rarely pay attention to anything outside what directly bothers them." Hayley said with a shrug—such a jaded view from one so young, Natasha was impressed.

"I share a room with you." Natasha pointed out with a hint of a smirk. "I want to be your friend so I bother with you."

"I still am confused with why." Hayley mused as she pinned her oceanic gaze onto Natasha.

It was striking how blue her eyes were, Natasha thought to herself. The deepest pure blue of the sea, beautiful and unique eyes really. Natasha didn't often see eyes such a deep and pure colour—no hints or flakes of another colour in its blue depth—it was almost unsettling in a way.

"Why are you confused?" The Russian asked as she tugged on her long hair—she still wasn't used to it and wasn't sure if she should cut it or not as her hair was horribly curly when it was long.

"People older than me don't often want to be my friend." Hayley folded up her fake-glasses and placed them safely on the desk beside her newest bot—a spider-spy—before meeting Natasha's gaze once more. "They are either uncomfortable with someone younger than them being about to keep up with their mature topics of conversation or feel insecure that someone younger than them was smarter than them."

"You think you're smarter than me?" Natasha's eyebrow raised as she asked in mock offense—Hayley Collins was a genius on the scale of Richard Reed, Victor von Doom, Tony Stark, Hank Pym and Hank McCoy, it was obvious that she left most people in her dust with how high functioning her mind was.

It was no wonder that Fury wanted her on their side and not against them. It was impressive that she was already up there with the great genii of America at her age, Natasha wouldn't be surprised if she surpassed them when she finally got bored with robotics and branched out in other fields.

Hayley Collins had the potential to be a one woman team of specialists in a few years. It was an impressive and yet terrifying thought—imagine what she could do to the world if she decided to play the bad guy?

Hayley snorted in mild contempt as she gave Natasha a look that said 'do I really have to answer that stupid question?'

Natasha shook her head slightly and Hayley grinned at her.

"You still haven't said why you wear glasses." Natasha pointed out. "You're really pretty without them."

"I know," was Hayley's simple answer.

There was no arrogance in her tone that most girls her age would feel when making that statement and being called pretty. Her voice was so matter of fact that it almost stunned Natasha.

"Be careful, Lee, you're arrogance is showing." Natasha teased, eyes glittering with amusement as a ripple of shock crossed her face at the nickname before she wiped it from her face and smirked at the redhead.

"It's not arrogance if it's true." Hayley retorted. "My Dad taught me that."

"Your Dad sounds like a really nice guy." Natasha snorted making Hayley turn away slightly.

"Dad's a good guy, he loves me but the fact is he wasn't ready to be a father when he had me." Hayley explained as she fiddled with a few spare parts. "He was seventeen and had come home to be handed a baby, his parents telling him that it's his daughter and he had to look after her. Grandma helped out when she could, but I was raised mostly by a nanny."

"Nanny?" Natasha's eyebrows raised in question.

"I'm a trust-fund baby." Hayley smirked.

"Genius, pretty and rich." Natasha dramatically sighed. "Some girls get all the luck."

"Being pretty is temporary, it fades as you get older and wrinkled, but being smart—that can last a life-time if your mind doesn't fail you." Hayley explained. "My mother was pretty, I think, and because of a night of stupidity with my Dad, I was the result. I don't want to be pretty, I want to be smart."

Natasha stared at her roommate briefly, before the redhead, almost gently, told her;

"You can be both, you know?"

* * *

Hayley honestly had expected a reaction from her classmates a lot sooner, there was bullies everywhere in the world—something she knew from books, TV programmes and movies—and they didn't really like someone younger of them showing them up in class—again, and again, and again.

So she wasn't that surprised to find herself stuffed in a cramped closest—she was five-foot-nothing and thin—by one of her classmates.

It was dark, it was cramped, and she panicked though she wasn't really claustrophobic, but she had always panicked easily—something that she had never really got over.

Her breath seized for a moment as she heard the mocking laughter of her classmates—new bullies—drift away as they left her in the closest.

She shook her head and took a deep breath as she reached for the handle—only there wasn't any handle inside the closest.

Her chest began to burn, and she dimly realised that she had stopped breathing, so she took a deep gasp of breathe.

"Let me out!" She shouted, pale fists slamming into the wood door with great force. "Let me out!"

"Let me out! Let me out! Let me out!"

_Hydrogen_, Dad's voice reminded her firmly in the back of her mind as she took shuddering breathes. _Helium, what comes next Lee?_

"Lithium," Hayley gasped out as she pressed her back against the door. "Beryllium," she slid down the door, knees pulled up to her chest with her arms wrapped around them. "Boron, Carbon, Nitrogen." She rested her head on her knees. "Oxygen."

She needed to calm down, needed to take more oxygen and let it affect her brain before she passed-out because of her panic—what if she wasn't let out?

* * *

"Where is she?" Natasha growled as she threw one of the guy's she knew that shared Hayley's last class with her to the ground, he hit it hard. "Where's Hayley?"

"I-I don't know!" He strutted as he attempted to crawl backwards from the furious redhead. "I-I swear!"

"You're lying to me." Natasha stated before swinging her clenched fist at his scared face.

"In the closest near our last class!" He shouted out as he threw his hands up to guard his face.

There was a pause when her punch didn't connect and he slowly lowered his arms to look around as she was no longer in front of him—he didn't see Natasha's next punch coming and no one warned him.

She was certain that she at least fractured his jaw, she knew that she knocked him out.

"Thank you for you cooperation," she mockingly bowed to the unconscious boy and his scared witless friends, who had simply watched as she threw their friend around, before she spun on her heel and sprinted towards Hayley's last class.

When Natasha found her, Hayley's eyes were blank and staring as tear streaked down her pale face as she muttered between gasps.

"Rubidium, Strontium, Yttrium, Zirconium, Niobium, Molybdenum, Technetium, Ruthenium."

Natasha had to slap her to knock her out of her panic, Hayley's eyes were still wide—but focused—as she lurched into Natasha's startled arms—she had to stifle the automatically reflex to knock Hayley way—as she sobbed into the redheads shoulder, her own shoulder shuddering.

"Shush, you're okay." Natasha awkwardly comforted the younger girl, rubbing her shuddering back. "I've got you, I've got you."

Comfort hadn't been part of her training in the Red Room, and Coulson hadn't yet been able to get her used to it, but she liked to think she wasn't completely helpless when it came to comforting now. It was time to put that to the test.

"I've got you." Natasha promised as she hugged the younger girl closely. "You're safe."

It was in that moment that they became friends.

* * *

To Director

From Black-Widow

_Progress Report._

_I will be building her confidence up and teaching her how to fight properly starting this weekend, after a shopping trip in New York._

_If Coulson gets a call about my behaviour or me punching a student, I did it because he helped lock Hayley into a small closest. She suffers from panic attacks, but already has a system in place to help her cope._

* * *

Natasha was glad that the incident happened on a Friday as she took Hayley into New York for the weekend to build her confidence back up and such. She was taking the younger woman to have a completely new look that would boost her confidence—it included heels in that plan.

"How are you meant to walk in these?" Hayley wobbled slightly as she hung on to Natasha's arm, her new five-inch heeled boots making her taller without her once perfect balance.

"Practice makes perfect." Natasha informed her as she carefully helped her walk down the crowded side-walk. "You'll get used to it."

Hayley just grumbled at that as she stared down at her feet—her glasses had been snapped in half by Natasha on the way into New York and it was strange not to have their weight on her nose.

Natasha could admit that she was perhaps being a bit cruel in not letting Hayley wear the boots with the thicker heel, but Natasha was a firm-believer of the sink or swim way of learning.

"Do you want to get your ears-pierced?" Natasha asked Hayley making her pause in her grumbles.

"Okay." Hayley was a little unsure but wanted to get her ears pierced more than the single lobe piercings she had at the moment.

Natasha smiled at her as she tugged her towards a piercing place she knew of.


	6. Chapter 6

Nick Fury had been one of the few that Howard Stark had tasked with keeping Hayley (Stark) Collins' existence a secret from everyone outside the family, had been one of the few agents that kept an eye on the girl.

It had been his plan since he first saw her build an A.I robot to get her to join him, the heir of Howard Stark—he had never really liked the man's son—and sent Romanoff to MIT when the young teen joined early.

Romanoff had kept him up-to-date with what Collins was going on with, sent him pictures once in a while, but it was still somewhat startling to see Hayley Collins in the flesh—how much was her own style? And how much did Romanoff influence it?

She had a thick fringe that attempted to cover her slim dark eyebrows while the rest of her dark hair flowed down her back, pin-straight, apart from the single braid wrapped tightly with bright red threat that hung on the left side of her head.

Her oceanic blue eyes were ringed in thick black and thin red that matched the red of the braid. She wore a dark faded band t-shirt under a zipped and buckled leather jacket, dark lace-up skinny jeans and almost combat-like heeled boots.

She stared at him from across the table silently, waiting with patience that her Grandfather had though her father showed no hint of in public.

"Miss Collins, I'm Director Nick Fury from the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division," he introduced himself. "It's a division—"

"I know what SHIELD is," she cut him off. "And I'm sure you know who my Grandfather was."

"I do," he nodded once.

"Is that why you want me? Because of my blood tie to him?" Hayley asked with a raised eyebrow, carefully never mentioning her grandfather's name which Fury approved of, and with a flash of brilliant straight white teeth. "Because I was raised by my father, I dislike government divisions almost as much as he does."

"I think you will want to join SHIELD, Miss Collins." Fury stated making Hayley scoff as she pushed her chair back.

"I don't deal with governments, especially those that have freakishly long names," she said as she stood. "They always have the most secrets."

He watched her turn to the door and waited till she was steps away before speaking again;

"I believe that Hydra has infiltrated SHIELD," he said watching as she paused. "I believe they arranged the deaths of Howard Stark and his wife." He saw her back stiffen and her shoulders tense. "Howard Stark was my friend, I want to bring them to justice without destroying his hard work and I think you do too."

She turned to face him then, her features tight with blue fire in her eyes.

"Some would consider that a low-blow," she said quietly.

"When it comes to bringing justice to my friends," he began lowly. "There's nothing too low for me to go to get what I need for them."

She swallowed thickly, and Fury knew he had her, but decided to make sure he had her firmly.

"Howard Stark built SHIELD to protect the world from threats that most mandate divisions can't cope with. He built something great, an organisation to keep the peace and help people, I don't want to see that destroyed because of some remnants of Hydra shit growing like a cancer in the organisation he built, funded and was devoted too."

"I'm not a spy," she told him.

"I know," he returned easily.

She may not be a spy, but she was a good liar—just like her father and grandfather.

"I won't let you shut me out, I'll hack everything," she warned as she took a step towards where he had remained sitting.

"I know." Fury knew that she was very much like Howard—hopefully it wouldn't get her killed like it did with him.

"I won't mindlessly take orders." Hayley stood behind her earlier seat, blue eyes narrowed.

"You have Iron in your backbone, I never thought you would bow to my orders." Fury stated with a shrug making her smirk slightly.

"I want to still be able to get my doctorates." Hayley told him, making him smirk as he nodded. "You'll let me do everything I need to one day take down Hydra?"

"Within reason." Fury agreed. "It'll be a long time coming though, Miss Collins."

"I can wait," she barred her teeth in a mockery of a smile. "I've waited eleven years already just to know who killed them, what's a few more years to get proper justice?"

Fury knew that her justice would see Hydra as burning ashes, and that's what he wanted. Hydra made a mistake in angering a Stark, they have Iron hearts that were utterly ruthless when it came to their enemies.

They had dismissed Tony Stark as a threat, his hostile relationship with his father was well-known, and hadn't even known about the last Stark that would one day bring their downfall.

* * *

"Is your name even Natasha?" Hayley's voice was cold, brimming with fury and hurt, and some small part of Natasha flinched.

Natasha had been beside Hayley for three years, had been her friend for three years, and now her friendship was breaking and Natasha didn't know how to fix it—friendship wasn't something you learnt in the Red Room after all, her only experience with friendship was with Clint and he had tried to kill her when they first met.

"Yes," she tilted her chin up proudly. "I'm Natasha Romanoff."

"Russian." Hayley snorted as she turned her face away. "Should have known."

Natasha frowned before she snapped angrily.

"I am your friend, I didn't lie about that!"

Oceanic icy eyes pinned her in place and she glared heatedly back—it seem her heat melted Hayley's ice and she slumped.

"You're really my friend?" There was something almost childlike to her question and Natasha's fire was quashed.

"Yes," she reassured her oldest female friend, and the two shared a small smile.

It hadn't fixed everything, Natasha had broken Hayley's trust and she would need to earn it back for them to go fully back to their easy-friendship. Natasha knew that she had made Hayley a little more untrusting of people and, frankly, Natasha didn't really mind that much as it could one day save Hayley's life.

Natasha was highly protective of those that she came to care about, she was heartless enough to watch the world burn if Clint, Hayley and Coulson, and she supposed Fury and Hayley's dad, was alright and by her side.

* * *

Grant Ward had once held the title of youngest SHIELD agent, he lost his title to seventeen-year-old Hayley Collins who was solely responsible for the new defences and tech of SHIELD as well as trained field agent.

She earned a doctorate in robotics by the time she was eighteen and was learning under Dr J. Streiten so she could earn another doctorate as a proper medical doctor.

If Grant was ruled by his ego, he may have been a bit pissed off that someone three years younger than him was higher in SHIELD than he was and held the title of Doctor at the age he was still in the Academy.

But Grant wasn't, so he was impressed mostly.

The impressed feeling increased as he sat on the steel table in her lab and looked around at it as he waited for her—under the watchful eye of an Egg-shaped robot that buzzed in warning when it looked like Grant was going to touch something.

Drones flew around the lab easily, ignoring the curious gaze of the human, with things held tightly in their little clawed hands.

Complex calculations and such covered a number of white-boards in different coloured markers that were bolted to the walls, inactive bots were hooked up to electric-charges on steel tables, half-built bots were laying on other steel tables waiting to be finished, a high-tech computer—with a dozen thin glass screens bolted to the wall—sat on her slim desk with a leather chair in front of it and other things that Grant didn't understand was hidden away from view in finger-print locked cupboards.

"Agent Ward?" A smooth female voice interrupted his gazing, and his gaze snapped to the woman who had silently entered the lab, the doors sliding closed behind her with a soft hiss.

"Dr Collins, I presume?" He asked in return as he took in the younger woman.

Dark hair had been pulled back in a messy bun, thick fringe partly hid her eyebrows, and a single long braid—wrapped tightly in bright red thread—hung loose on the left side of her head. A white lab-coat had been thrown over a faded band t-shirt and skinny light jeans, ridiculously high heels gave her much-needed height—he had heard that Dr Collins was short, but looking at the size of the heels made him aware of just how short she was.

"You presume correct," her oceanic eyes pierced him before she turned to the drone that had appeared next to her, she took the slim portable screen from it with a soft mutter of thanks making the drone chirp happily before it whirled off.

"Grant Ward, male, six feet and two inches, hundred-and-sixty-two pounds, blood-type a, born seventh January nineteen-eighty-three," she listed off as she tapped on the screen while she walked closer to him.

"Impressive," he told her as she stood in front of him. "Do you have everything about me on there?"

"Near-enough," she smirked at him as she set the screen on the silver medical table that one of her drones pushed over to her, a tray with a needle, three vials for blood, a tourniquet and a metal medical injection gun was already resting on top it. "Take off the blazer and rolled up the sleeve of your right arm please."

"The bloods for?" he questioned as he shrugged off his dark blazer, unbuttoned the buttons at his wrist before rolling up the sleeve easily.

"Standard tests," she reassured him as she slipped the tourniquet on and tightened it, tapping at his inner-crease of his elbow for a vein to come up.

"And the injection gun?" he raised his eyebrows at her making her smirk as she snapped on a pair of latex gloves.

"I'm afraid that's classified, Agent Ward," she told him as she readied the needle. "This will pinch a bit."

He didn't even wince as he watched her take the vials of blood.

"Classified, huh? You liked saying that?" he asked absently.

"How many eighteen-year-old doctors get to say that?" she asked as she placed the first filled vial onto the tray. "I've read your file, Agent Ward, and I know you're not normally this talkative."

"Would you believe me if I said doctors make me nervous?" Grant asked with a hint of a smirk.

"Nope," she popped the 'p' as she swiftly finished and removed the needle, one drone flew forward to take it from her while another handed him a wipe which he took and pressed into the crease of his elbow to stem the blood before they both whirled away. "This will hurt a bit."

"What—ow!" she shot him in the neck with the injection gun.

"You may go now, Agent Ward," she told him as she took the tray over to her desk.

Grant did as he was told and left Dr Collins' lab, unaware of the oceanic gaze fixed on him as the doors slid closed after him.

"Junior?" Hayley called out.

"Yes Lee?" The soft and young British tone of Junior, her own version of JARVIS, sounded.

"Active Ward-1-9-8-3," she ordered as one of her screen flickered to show a map of the New York HQ of SHIELD filled with little coloured dots and another flickered to life as Agent Ward walked away from her lab, unaware of the tracker she had just injected into his neck.

Her first step towards bringing down Hydra.


	7. Chapter 7

The biggest event of the scientist social calendar was the New Year's party that was normally held in New York—where the brightest minds got together for a single night of wild-fun and swapped latest project ideas.

At nineteen, Hayley would be the youngest there though that didn't bother her—she was used to being around people older than her as they were normally the only ones that could keep up with her mentally.

Despite the fact that nothing truly dangerous happened when genius and bright minds got together, Fury still wanted her to take a 'date' just to be safe and Natasha had swiftly pushed Clint at her to be her date—Hayley didn't really mind, she knew Clint and was friends with him, and knew she would be having fun with him there.

* * *

Bruce didn't know why he always let Betty drag him to the New Years' party, sure everyone was near-enough on the same level when it came to intelligence, but the thing was he still wasn't a party-type of guy.

"Dr Banner?" A smooth voice of an unfamiliar woman called.

He almost sighed before he plastered on a smile as he turned to face the woman, only to blink in surprise at who called to him.

She was a young woman, had to be the youngest person in the room and that included her date, with dark hair pulled in a low-side-ponytail with a braid hanging freely on the left-side of her head. A silver bar went through the top of her right ear, three diamond studs in her lobe, a small silver tear-drop stud was further up the lobe from them and attached to a chain that joined on to hoop in the middle of her rim—Bruce wondered how many piercing she had in her left ear.

Oceanic blue eyes were ringed in a thick ring of black than a thinner ring of deep red that matched the tone of the dress she wore that fell past her knees and showed of her pale legs in gladiator-style heeled-sandals that were ridiculously high and made her reach his height of five foot eight.

Her companion stood easily beside her, towering over her at six foot even. His tie of his dark suit matched her dress, his short brown hair was slightly messy and his eyes were constantly scanning around—the signs of a man from the government or military, not the sort of man a scientist went for normally as scientists cared little for governments and military as they almost always tried to take their work.

Still he recognised the young woman.

"Dr Collins," he greeted as he reached out to shake her hand, her short blood-red nails shone in the light as she shook his hand with a smile. "Your recent paper of making a learning independent robot was brilliant."

"I'm not the first robotics-specialist to bring up the topic of a fully independent A.I that can learn independent and grow from its basic programming on its own, all my robots are A.I and Tony Stark's has been building personal A.I for years," she tried to downplay her paper, but there was pride in her smile. "You recent paper in Gamma-radiation was awe-inspiring, almost made me want to jump into your field."

"Please don't do that soon, I want to be able to retire with a handsome sum before you boot me out of being an expert on Gamma-radiation." Bruce joked making her laugh—being a scientist rarely made one rich after all and retirement was rarely done with a handsome sum—while her companion looked slightly confused.

Bruce sipped at the drink that Betty had shoved into his hand before she flittered off and studied the man before.

Dr Collins hadn't offered to introduce him and he didn't attempt to introduce himself, seemingly content with remaining silent at her side. He seemed comfortable in the dark suit—a standard with government types—but there was an underlying tension to his broad shoulders that said he wasn't that used to wearing a suit and was, perhaps, more comfortable doing field work?

He wasn't in a sexual or romantic relationship with Dr Collins, he didn't automatically shift his posture and such when she did as many male lovers subconsciously did as if to be in a better place to protect their 'fragile' female lover from harm, but there was an ease between them that meant they knew each other—very well most likely.

He was obviously from some sort of government, Bruce reframed from nodded slightly to himself so not to alert the government agent of his close study. Most likely from the government that had snapped up Dr Collins when she had just finished MIT and still hadn't finished reaching her title of Doctor—as there hadn't been any talk of her setting up her own lab or being pulled into someone else's—and was with her to protect the asset she was to their group as well in a friendly way to keep her save surrounded by many people older than her and who could possible plan an experiment to destroy or endanger the world if they were bored enough—which they had come close to in the past at this party.

Over all, he wasn't dangerous as long as Dr Collins remained unharmed and such, Bruce concluded without the agent being aware, though by the way that Dr Collins' eyes gleamed she had been aware of his close study—a side-effect of being a genius that she was perfectly aware of.

Geniuses studied everything and everyone they came in contact with—it always helped them in the long run.

"So here's the beautiful and young Doctor Hayley Collins!" A loud voice said just moments after the Agent pressed his hand onto Hayley's back in silent warning, and Tony Stark appeared beside them, glass held with ease in his fingers as he grinned at the trio.

"Mr Stark," both Bruce and Hayley greeted though Hayley's was waved away with a careless wave of the Billionaire's hand and an almost pout.

"Call me Tony, Hayley." Tony told her with a smirk before tugging her into a hug, seemingly unaware of her government companion's stiffening. "Welcome to the family of great minds."

And if the hug wasn't enough to make her Agent-companion hate Tony Stark, the billionaire pressed a kiss into Hayley's cheek before he pulled away with a grin.

There was an almost embarrassed flush to her cheeks as she let her Agent-Date pull her back to his side and wrap a strong arm around her slight shoulders making a frown briefly cross Stark's face as he watched before he replaced his trade-mark almost too smug smirk appeared on his lips.

"Thank you, Tony." Collins smiled at him—there was no flirty undertone like most women's smiles had when it came to the Great Tony Stark which relieved Bruce, he did not want to watch Tony flirt with another young bright mind until she was in his bed and another notch in his bed-post.

* * *

"How did the English major define microtome on his biology exam?" Hank McCoy asked with a grin on his furred face, dark eyes glittering with amusement as he looked around the small group of Hayley, Reed Richard and Clint.

"How?" Hayley asked though a grin was already spreading on her glossy full lips.

"An itsy bitsy book!" Hank crowed with a laugh making Reed groan as Hayley laughed.

"That was a terrible joke." Reed complained though there was a smile on his features.

"You tell one than Richards." Hank told him.

"A neutron walked into a bar and asked, 'How much for a drink?' The bartender replied, 'For you, no charge." Reed told them making them shake their heads with a small laugh.

"And you said McCoy's was bad." Hayley laughed as she took another sip of her orange-and-vodka.

"Your turn, Collins." Hank prompted her making her think for a bit.

"Oh, I've got one," she grinned at them slyly. "Why are quantum physicists so poor at sex?"

"Why?" Hank grinned widely back at her, neither of the two other scientists even blinking at his sharp teeth and fangs.

"Because when they find the position, they can't find the momentum, and when they have the momentum, they can't find the position!" she roared laughter with Hank joining her, Clint was shaking his head in amused bemusement, and even Reed chuckled.

"Should I be offended by that as a physicist?" he asked with a grin making Hayley and Hank laugh again.

"Perhaps you can prove her wrong?" Hank waggled his furry blue eyebrows making Reed splutter with a blush and Hayley to laugh when Clint pointedly tugged her closer to him as he pretended to glare at Reed making Hank boom out a laugh which made some of the other guests shoot their little table a bemused (and perhaps annoyed) look.

"Hey, Hayley," Tony had sauntered up when they were laughing at Reed's red face and placed his hand on her shoulder. "Can I talk to you for a moment?"

"Sure," she easily agreement, shaking her head slightly at Clint when he made to stand up with her, and took Tony's arm as they left the main hall and down an empty hallway.

As soon as they were there, Hayley let go on his arm and pull a slim circular disk from her small clutch bag, that had gone unnoticed mostly, before sticking it on the wall and turning it on with a hum.

She turned back to Tony to see him leaning back against the wall with his arms crossed and a frown.

"He's too old for you," he told her point-blank.

"He's only thirty-five," she replied in amusement, she wasn't angry as he was her father and would always be protective over his 'little' girl.

"He's a year younger than me and thus, old enough to be your father." Tony said with a dark look making Hayley laugh.

"He's my bodyguard and friend, not my boyfriend," she told him with a hint of a smirk. "I've decided to follow your path in the relationship department."

Tony let out a strangled sound making her laugh again as she shook her head.

"I was joking," she reassured her stricken father making him sigh in relief before he glared at her.

"Don't say something like that with such a serious face," he scolded her. "You are to stay a virgin till you are thirty."

"Can't stay something I'm not," she sung as she took the disk and turned it off and left her father gaping at her back.

"Hayley, you're joking right? Hayley? Hayley!"

* * *

"_She's not a virgin!"_ Tony's voice screeched down the phone making Rhodey wince as he tiredly rubbed his eyes.

"Most women you take to bed aren't Tony," he deadpanned as he glared at his alarm clock that blinked 04:30 am at him almost innocently.

"_No! Lee! Our Lee! She's not a virgin!"_ Tony wailed making Rhodey snap wide awake as the words processed in his sleepy mind.

"What?" he growled. "I must heard you wrong because it sounded like you said Lee, our baby girl, your daughter and my innocent god-daughter, isn't a virgin."

"_It's true!"_ Tony wailed dramatically making Rhodey's hold on his mobile tighten.

"She's in so much trouble." Rhodey promised darkly.


	8. Chapter 8

If there was one emotion that she had as many problems with as panic it was anger—the Stark family always had tempers.

Howard's anger sometimes spiked when he was drunk, and though Hayley loved her Grandfather, she had been terrified when he would suddenly become angry and rave and shout as he broke things.

Dad always scooped her up, having learnt the tell-tale signs in his own childhood, and they would lock themselves up in his room and if she started to panic because of the loud noises, then he would calmly whisper the word Hydrogen and they would go through the periodic table together till she calmed down and drifted off to sleep.

Maria's anger would explode if something happened to her family or someone threaten them—Hayley would always remember the rant that Maria had fallen into when Hayley came back from the park with skinned knees and palms because some 'stupid no-good bastard of a child' had pushed her so he could go on the swings first.

Tony dealt with his anger by either drinking, because alcohol numbed him, slowed his mind and never was a trigger like it was for Howard, or by going into a random building frenzy that would end with him taking a hammer to his newest creation.

Hayley dealt with her anger by beating the crap out of a punching-bag, it was something she had got into after Rosa started training her, something that she readily fell into when something snapped her temper. It was the reason that the skin on her knuckles was thick, constant pounding into her punching-bag.

She had spent hours beating the shit out of her punching-bag after she realised that Natasha—her friend Natasha, her first friend Natasha, one of the few people she fuckin' trusted Natasha—had been spying on her for Fury, she hadn't completely got rid of the anger when she went to talk with Natasha but she didn't lash out.

Perhaps because she kept herself tightly controlled, kept her temper from lashing out that was the reason that most of her family assumed that she hadn't inherited the infamous Stark temper — she had, she could just control it more than they did.

* * *

Bruce Banner had just done something completely stupid and had created a monster-alter-ego.

Hayley had liked the guy, respected his genius and wasn't that surprised with the action he took when he had been told that his funding was being cut—scientists did crazy shit sometimes when their funding was threatened—it just sucked that the result caused Bruce to run in fear—Thaddeus Ross was a complete asshole in her opinion.

She just wanted to have a long hot shower, dress herself in her most comfortable PJs that were horrible faded and old, watch old Disney movies as she drank hot-chocolate before she crashed in her ridiculously soft bed—Natasha would probably pop in during the night and either slip in her bed with her or go into one of the spare rooms that was unofficial hers.

Of course, that plan was shot to hell moments after she stepped into her apartment.

"You've redecorated since I was last here." Uncle Rhodey's voice was carefully neutral when he spoke up though he had startled her.

"Fuck!" she swore as she spun to face where he was sitting on her dark grey couch.

"Language," he scolded which in return she gave 'are you shitting me?' look in return as the front-door bolted itself shut.

She remembered the 'affectionate' names that Rhodey and her father had a habit of calling each other, their language was no better.

"So why are you here?" she asked as she drifted towards her kitchen where she knew a fresh glass of orange-juice would be waiting for her.

Her apartment was what most people would be called futuristic. All smooth lines of black shiny surface, a wall of glass that was bullet-and-everything-you-can-throw-at-it-proof was also doubled as her computer and TV (she also had a computer on a chrome desk tucked under the stairs), her kitchen was almost completely automatic, the coffee-table in front of her couch doubled as her keyboard when she was on her computer and upstairs held her own private lab—locked with eye-scanners, key-code and finger-print-scanner—three spare rooms, her own room and the bathroom.

Egg greeted her with a chirp as she walked to Shiva (taken from the final fantasy games) the fridge before he returned to pushing against Hercules' lone arm, the arm-bot was very strong and easily held Egg back.

"I got a call around four thirty in the morning from my hysterical best friend, and your father, on the first day of the year saying that you weren't a virgin." Rhodey informed her, disapproval near-dripping from his tone.

"I'm nineteen, I am a woman and I have needs," she told him as she sipped from the glass of chilled juice. "I don't see why it's any of your business."

"You're our little girl," he told her.

"You're really using that?" she scoffed.

"Hayley," he shot a disapproving glare at her.

"I'm not going to have a stable relationship or a long-lasting one so I should have a bit of fun when I can," she said with a shrug.

"Why don't you think you'll have a stable or long-lasting relationship?" he was perplexed at that.

"If it's a long-lasting one, they'll eventually want to meet my father," she extended one slim finger as she counted off the reasons why. "If they meet Dad, they'll either be scared off because of him or they'll run to the press about them banging Tony Stark's secret bastard daughter." Another slim finger was extended. "I haven't met someone around my age who'll even pretend to listen when I talk about my work, who'll understand that most of my work is government secrets, who'll be alright with me jetting off somewhere around the world at a moment's notice." She shrugged then. "Best not to get too attached."

"That's just a sad outlook on life." Rhodey shook his head.

"Plus I would be putting them into danger." Hayley said almost off-handily.

"You're not still looking into their deaths are you?" Rhodey groaned when Hayley kept her silence as she sipped more of her orange-juice. "It was an accident, Lee, a terrible and shocking accident but still an accident. There was nothing suspicious about Howard and Maria Stark's deaths."

"Granddad was a carefully driver, he had never crashed in the past—even when he was drunk to the gills—and would never be reckless with Grandma in the car." Hayley spoke fiercely.

"Lee, I know you don't want to accept that they died because of no-good-reason—"

"They were murdered!"

"There is no proof of that! You have to stop this nonsense!"

"GET OUT! GET OUT! GET OUT!" she shrieked at her god-father and with one last sad look, he left her apartment, leaving her panting with deep breathes of anger.

Neither Dad nor Uncle Rhodey had thought that their deaths were suspicious, and that made her shake with barely-controlled anger. Granddad wouldn't have been reckless with the car, especially with Grandma in the car, he wouldn't!

* * *

Peggy had once been as sharp as a tact, her mind had been one of her best qualities and she had been more proud of her mind than her looks—figures that both went in her old age.

Sometimes her mind was a sharp as it once was, other times she was a batty-old-hag that she never wanted to be and other times she was back in the '40s—waiting for her Captain to come home, give her a dance and for them to see where their relationship would go.

Sometimes she wondered what her life would have been like if Howard had found Steve. Would she have married him later on? Or wouldn't she? Was their feelings just brought on by the war or were they were true? So many relationships had been started in the war so they wouldn't die alone, so they could capture a little bit of happiness in a time of such strife—was that what their relationship had been? Would it have faded with the end of the war?

But she had had a happy life, she had married a man she had loved and had children that made her so proud. She couldn't waste the rest of her life dwelling on what could have been.

Of course there was other regrets in her life, not being part of Tony's life after he finished college, for not going to Howard and Maria's funeral and other things.

She didn't imagine that she would learn, and regret, that she didn't know anything about Howard's grandbaby, Tony's daughter. Who would have thought Tony would have a daughter? A secret daughter at that?

The boy she had known would have shouted to the world about his brilliant beautiful daughter—but time changed people didn't?

"Ms Carter?" There was an almost hesitant-tone to the knock that predated the question.

Brown met oceanic blue, and Peggy was struck by the thought that the young woman looked a lot like Maria Stark with hints of a stranger and Tony to add more character to her features.

"Yes?" Peggy asked.

"I'm Hayley Collins," she took a step into her room. "I'm Maria's granddaughter, and I would like to talk to you."


	9. Chapter 9

**AN: My Life, My Wife is finished though officially on Hiatus as I'm not sure if I'm going further with it. At the moment I'm torn between who I should pair Hayley with, Steve or Bucky? Please review or PM me who you'd like to see her with. I hope you're enjoying reading this story as I am writing it.**

* * *

"—no one believes me when I say they were murdered." Hayley finished, both were confident they weren't being overheard by the door being firmly closed and her disc that stopped bugs picking up their voices.

"Of course they were," Peggy scoffed. "Howard was a skilled driver and would never endanger Maria."

"You believe me," a sense of deep relief spread through her chest at Peggy's words.

"Of course I do," Peggy patted her hand with a sympathetic smile. "He was one of my oldest friends, I knew Howard."

"You remind of your grandmother, you know?" Peggy said after a moment of silence. "You look a lot like her, have the same fire in your eyes that captured Howard's attention when she was just an agent."

"Grandma was an agent?" Hayley was surprised—she had never known that.

"How do you think they met?" Peggy asked with a small laugh. "Maria was one of the best till she got badly hurt on the job—it was the reason that they called you're father Anthony, do you know what that name means?"

"Priceless," Hayley answered with a hint of confusion.

"Tony was the only child that they were ever going to have, Maria was told that she couldn't have children and yet Tony was born," Peggy's eyes were focused in a time long before Hayley was born. "Howard had beamed when he held Tony in his arms for the first time as Tony wiggled and screamed his little lungs out—showing everyone that doubted him that he was healthy and was here to stay. I had never seen him as proud as he was in that moment."

* * *

"I hear that you and Rhodey had a little fall-out," her Dad's voice drawled from her couch.

"Have either of you learnt to call before showing up?" she asked as she turned to face him.

"Why would we?" Dad asked. "It's not like you'd shoot us with that gun strapped to your lower back."

"I don't know what you're talking about," she kept her face controlled as he scoffed.

"Sweetheart, I taught you to lie," he told her, a smug smirk curling his lips. "I know all your little tells."

Caught, she scowled slightly as she pressed her hand to the wall next to her front door, there was a hiss as the wall moved to reveal where all her jackets and coats had been hung up on a slim rail and she stripped off her leather jacket and placed it on a hanger before removing the gun-holster on the small of her back and hung it from one of the hooks that held other gun-holsters with guns still in before she pressed her hand again and it hissed close under the dark eyes of her father.

"You know, I think you're more paranoid than I am," he sounded slightly amazed at that—Dad had made paranoia an art form after all.

"Are you here to tell me that their deaths were an accident and I should leave it alone?" she asked as she made her way to her kitchen.

She took the ready orange-juice from Shiva with a soft pat to her shiny silver body and turned to face Dad as he walked in.

"I'm here to tell you to be careful," Dad's face was grim as he seriously told her.

"You don't believe it was an accident," she breathed out in shock, placing her glass down as her hand trembled. "But you never—"

"I had you to worry about," he cut her off with a scowl. "I wouldn't risk you to poke my nose in something that someone tried really hard to make look like an accident."

"That's why you pushed me away," she realised.

"Partly," he admitted. "But I also let grief get to me and make me act-out, soon it became part me and my life-style."

"Why didn't you tell me?" she asked, blue eyes staring at him in almost betrayal.

"You were six-years-old," he snapped. "I hoped you wouldn't become obsessed with their deaths."

"I just wanted to know what happened!" she snapped, eyes wet in an embarrassing way—she hadn't cried since MIT.

Dark eyes were intent on her face as Dad simply watched her for a moment, and she cursed herself inwardly as she knew that he had caught past-tense she spoke with—he knew she knew what happened. But he didn't ask, and she wasn't that surprised by that.

"Please be careful, Lee," he near-begged her. "I don't want to bury you too."

"I can't make any promises," she told him.

"Then lie to me," he told her, a desperate plea in his dark eyes as he stared at her. "Tell me you won't let this get you killed too."

"I promise," she lied and he moved so he could pull her into his arms.

He held her tightly and she clutched the back of his shirt, and suddenly she was six-years-old again as her Daddy held her close while she sobbed about Grandma and Granddad not coming home again.

His shoulders shook only once as he pressed a kiss on top her head, toned arms almost crushing her to his chest.

And Hayley decided in that moment that she would do everything possible to survive bringing down Hydra—if only just for him.

* * *

"So this is the famed secret lab of Hayley Collins," Clint whistled as he followed Natasha down the metal stairs to the bottom of the lab—no wonder the lower half of the apartment seemed small, she was fitting a secret lab behind her kitchen and living-room.

While her apartment was all chrome, charcoal grey and onyx, her lab was startling and stark white with lights that could blind you if you stared long enough.

Rough white tiles were on the floor—even the oldest and worn soles of shoes would be able to get a hint of grip and stop them from sliding—and metal work-tables were bolted to both the floor and walls they leaned against.

She had plastic stack-containers filled with wire, scrap metal, plastic and such stacked in the corner beside shiny metal filing-cabinets. Electric charging stations for her various bots were lining one wall while another held cabinets filled with tools and such.

There was some tech that looked like it had come straight from Tony Stark's personal work shop in the middle of the room—that included a computer system with large three slim screens that circled around an almost circular desk and white leather chair.

Her drones flew happily around and Hercules, the only bot that was basically just an arm, sat on her desk with his arm waving at his siblings—Clint had learnt that her bots were her babies and she would reduce anyone that insulted them or didn't treat them as almost human in crying-wrecks.

(He still watched the video of Jasper Sitwell making that mistake and being reduced to a crying-wreck under Hayley's fury in his spare time—fun times, fun times.)

Hayley didn't even glance up from where she was sitting on a stool as she readied an injection gun, dressed in a simple vest and jeans.

"Feel honoured that you're allowed here," she said drily. "If you were anyone else, I would have to fuck with your mind so you'd never remember this place."

Clint paused on the bottom step as Natasha, fearlessly, walked towards her friend—one of the drones pushing over a stool for the redhead, which she thanked with a small smile.

"You're kidding right?" his question earned him twin deadpanned stares. "Right, stupid question."

Natasha and Hayley spent too much time together in Clint's opinion. They were sometimes scarily alike. Most of the time Clint didn't mind it as they normally directed it to other agents—mostly newbies—but he hated it when they turned it on him.

"What's in the gun?" Natasha asked as she looked at the tube that Hayley loaded into the gun.

"Nanogenes," she answered as she shot herself into her left arm with a hiss.

"You totally ripped off Doctor Who," Clint declared after a beat as he came closer—a stool was pushed over for him as well.

"Exactly," Hayley confirmed as she placed the gun on the medical tray and wiped at the bit of blood that seeped down her arm. "They should work near-enough the same as they did in Doctor Who. Though I'm not sure if they'll be able to bring me back from the dead."

"Can anyone use them or are they just coded to your DNA?" Natasha asked as she watched her friend load the gun again.

"At the moment they're coded just to me," Hayley told her as she lined the gun up to her right arm. "I'm the test-subject."

"Do you even know if they work?" Clint asked as she hissed again as she shot herself.

"Of course they work," Hayley sounded almost insulted. "I did animal testing before I decided to use myself as a human test-subject, there was no adverse effects and they do heal wounds—though I didn't test fatal wounds as I didn't want to hurt the animals more than I had too."

"You're too soft-hearted," Natasha frowned at her friend.

"I just hate seeing innocent animals in pain," Hayley retorted as she mopped at the blood on her other arm.

"And yet you can cause people a large amount of pay without blinking," Clint snorted.

"I'm a doctor," Hayley smirked at him. "Part of all doctors like seeing people in pain, we're sadistic like that."

"I knew it," Clint nodded sagely making the two women laugh at him.


	10. Chapter 10

AQUA, a night club in Manhattan NY, was a club where it rained inside and you danced in the rain as music attempted to deafen you as you drunkenly dance on a wet dance floor that shines rainbows of colour up through the drops of water and the bar and the tables the only real dark areas though you're walking on fish-tanks.

A man entered the booming club with dark hair framing his angular face as eyes—that look almost aquamarine in the light—scanned the crowd of drunken club-goers.

_A picture's held up for him to see of a woman with almond blue eyes and long almost black hair. She's small but there was pride in the tilt of her chin and high intelligence in her clear blue eyes—she's his next mission._

A young woman was lifted up above the bodies of the rest of the dancers by many hands which caught his attention. Long dark hair tied and pinned up out of her face, dark vest clinging close to her toned frame, pale skin reflecting a rainbow as she screamed in delight with her blue eyes bright.

"_Her name is Hayley Collins," he was told. "Get close to her, see if she knows about Hydra—if she does, then see if she'll join. If she doesn't? Put a bullet through her head."_

He makes his way through the crow of wiggly bodies—hair clinging to his face as his dark top became stuck to his back—as she was carefully lowered so her booted feet could touch the ground—her leather boots were most likely ruined from the water and yet she didn't seem to care as she moved easily back into the swing of the dance.

She twirled right into his chest and stumbled with an embarrassed white smile as she steadied herself by resting her slender hands on his chest.

"Sorry about that!" she had to shout to be heard with eyes still lit with delight as she stared up at him.

"It's alright," he reassured her, large gloved hands falling almost easily on her hips as she draws him into the dance.

He was at ease in a way that was unfamiliar to him, her touch made his heart beat slightly faster as she drew herself close to him—pressing her chest against his, flatting her beasts against his muscular chest—as they rolled their hips to the music.

"I'm Hayley," she reached up to say into his ear. "What's your name?"

"James," he whispered into her ear before he pulled back with a smile that nearly matched hers—it almost felt real.

* * *

There was a breathless quality to her sigh that made him suck harder on the point her neck and shoulder joined as her fingers found their way under his dark top—still damp from the club—and her nails scrapped down beside his spine.

He could feel her heart beating hard, they were pressed that tightly together next to the door of her apartment, with her legs—surprisingly long for her short stature—wrapped around his hips—heat pressing against hardness.

"Key," he snapped in a voice husky in a way that he had never heard before coming from his mouth as he rolled his hips so he pressed tighter to her heat and making her gasp out a moan.

She pushed him back slightly making him frown before she wiggled against him to remove the key from the pocket of her tiny black shorts, he groaned at the movement and she flashed him a smirk as she pressed the key in his left gloved hand before attaching her mouth to his neck.

He gripped her thigh tightly with his right hand—he was going to leave bruises of her ivory skin—and held her close with one hand as he unlocked the door and near-kicked it open—he had the presence of mind to grab the key before he kicked the door shut with one booted foot.

She tapped his arm, he let her go and she lithely landed on her feet, there was a smirk on her face as she pressed close to him to reach behind him and lock the door before taking a step back and coyly playing with the hem of her vest before pulling it off, letting it form a damp pool of dark cotton on the floor and letting his gaze burn with lust at the sight of her lacy bra.

She smirked more widely as she began to back way towards the lone door of her rather open-plan apartment.

He took a brief glance around the apartment—modern décor with only the minimal amount of personal effects that was meant to show it was lived in, but it obviously wasn't her true apartment—before he followed her.

* * *

She was sat patiently on her large bed in just her black lacy underwear with her hair unbound and falling down her back in dark waves, her oceanic blue eyes seemed to glow in the dim light.

He stood in front of her and she knelt before him, she took his right in hers and tucked off the leather glove before doing the same with his left—his right hand flexed with the need to stop her, he didn't want to see horror in her clear eyes when she saw what they had done to him.

Though she paused, there was no horror in her gaze or any pity. There was curiosity as she dropped the glove to her wooden floor and studied the silver hand in interest before she tugged up his dark long-sleeved up and he helped her remove it.

He watched her, gaze wary, as she trailed her slender fingers up his metal arm and paused at the scar tissue where it met his shoulder. Her gaze met his before she pressed a kiss to the joining.

"Amazing," she breathed against his skin and he moved.

He pushed her back and she didn't fight as she flopped on the bed before he followed her down, caging her in with arms—one flesh and one metal—before he captured her lips with his own.

* * *

Sometimes when he slept, he dreamt of cold—_so cold, so cold, why is it so cold? Am I dead? Am I alive?—_and sometimes he felt like there was ice in his veins and he felt dead—he had to be dead if he was so cold.

Hayley's—his target's, he reminded himself sharply—touch seemed to spark some fire in him and it spread with every lingering and hot touch. A hand cupping his jaw as they kissed deeply and fiercely, both fighting for control, a trail of fingers down his spine that made him push deeper and her own back arch as she gasped and moaned under him, legs wrapping tightly around his waist—pulling him closer, deeper, and further into her heat—as lips of fire reached up to kiss his chest, the joining of metal and flesh, his neck, his jaw and finally capturing his mouth.

Every touch and every kiss seemed to give him life, it melted the ice in his veins—in his heart—and left behind fire—an ever-lasting fire—that attempted to consume him.

He had to be careful with her, he knew, Hayley wasn't as durable as he was—she was so fragile, so warm—but she didn't seem to know that as trembling full lips pleaded for '_faster, harder, please James'_—God he loved how she said his name (later he'll think back at that comment and realise that perhaps James was his name as it felt so right in his mind, from her lips.)—and his left hand crushes the metal of her headboard—she sees, he knows she did, and yet no fear flashed over her face or clouded her clear blue gaze as she looked up at him with trust.

(She shouldn't, shouldn't look at him like that, with lust and trust. Her blood could soon join the ocean of blood already staining his hands, she shouldn't look at him like that. Shouldn't make him feel these feelings, was this why he had never been allowed to lay with a woman? Did his superiors know of the power that women could hold over their lovers?)

He can't help the bruises he leaves on her ivory skin—almost a claim of possession the bruises that cover her neck, her slender arms and her long legs—though something inside him almost feels guilty. He did pull back with a wince of guilt as he bit too hard on her too soft lips and copper filled their mouths as she let out a gasp—a different gasp, a pained gasp that he hadn't wanted to pull from her and those now blood red lips.

She stared up at his guilty face—guilt wasn't something he was used to, Hydra had tortured and beaten that emotion out of him or at least they tried too—before her sleek tongue slid across her bottom lip, taking away the blood, and let him see as the damaged flesh mended back together seamlessly.

She healed quickly in a way that wasn't like he did. His healing was nature sped up, the blood cladded, flesh scabbed over before it finally healed—sometimes with a scar and sometimes without—while her healing was nature sped up, it was something else, something she created, something made by her slender fingers.

She took his right hand—he had to use his left to support himself so he didn't crush her—and she directed his hand over her bare form as best she could, they were still joined, and left his rough palm feel every scar—every puckered bit of skin that ruined parts of her smooth ivory skin—that littered her torso before dragging his hand down her flat and toned stomach—that flexed and trembled under his touch—before she released his hand and cupped his face—blue met blue—and he realised she was showing him that she wasn't as fragile as he thought.

And he surged down with a fierceness that surprised both of them.

Callous hands—one set slender and pale and the other large and sun-kissed—traced scars that littered their lover's body like a map of past battles—of victory and defeat—that spoke of the strength—the strength of will to live and the strength coiled in their bodies.

He can't help but think that there was a surprising amount of strength coiled in her small body and shined in her intelligent eyes.

* * *

Dawn would soon be upon them, he knew. His superiors would be wondering where he was and he would be punished when he finally returned.

That ominous thought didn't make him tense, slip away like the villain he was. He lay relaxed in Hayley's comfortable bed, the woman, herself, sprawled half-way across his chest with her face lax with sleep and with the covers twisted around their waists.

His silver fingers—warmed by her hot flesh—trailed down her arm before reaching up and tangling into her dark hair. He pressed his nose into it, smelling the sweat, sex, metal and something uniquely her own scent in the dark strands, and hoped he didn't have to kill the woman who made him feel so alive.

* * *

**AN: As you can see by this chapter, I'm leaning towards pairing her with Bucky. This is my first time writing anything sexual so please tell me what you think.**

**Thank you, Cassie x**


	11. Chapter 11

James clenched and unclenched his flesh hand as the after-shock of the electric-shock caused it to tremble.

"You spent a whole night with her and found out nothing?" Alex Pierce stared down at him with pursed lips.

"The target is a very private person, she doesn't trust easily and didn't take me to her real apartment," he responded.

"So you decided just to fuck her since you couldn't learn anything?" Brock Rumlow sneered from behind Pierce.

He didn't even glance at him, keeping his gaze fixed on Pierce.

"I'll have to gain her trust to find out anything," he told him. "It'll be a long-term mission."

"He just wants to continue—"Pierce cut Rumlow off.

"Enough," Pierce raised his hand and Rumlow fell silent. "Fine, Soldier, romance her, sleep with her, make her love you. Just remember she's a mission and I want to know if she'll join Hydra or not."

He turned to leave with Rumlow falling in step behind him but paused at the doors.

"Remember, if she won't, you'll be putting a bullet through her head," Pierce told him.

James watched them go, the tendons in his neck visible as he clenched his jaw.

* * *

"So is this a walk of shame I see?" Clint grinned up at her from his sprawled place on her couch.

Hayley ignored him—dressed in yesterday's clothes—as Natasha peered out from the kitchen where the smell of her version of an English fry-up—fried eggs, toast, baked-beans, bacon and sausage—was coming from.

"Food?" Natasha asked.

"God yes," Hayley responded making Clint whistle as he wagged his eyebrows at her.

"That good, huh?"

"Shut up," Hayley told him though there was a smile curling her lips as she marched towards the kitchen to eat her breakfast.

Clint just snickered to himself as he flipped through the channels of her TV.

* * *

James knew he was a lot older than he looked because of the serum that ran through his veins and the freezes that Hydra put him through when they decided they didn't need him for now.

Hayley though was as young as she looked, just in her early twenties and yet she had done so much and would continue to do more because she had a restless energy about her that she put into everything she created so she didn't combust from it—her words, not his.

Sometimes she would act her age, pulling him along to a theme park for no-good reason and ridding all the massive rollercoasters till both of them were nearly sick—James honestly didn't mind as when he was with her, he felt alive and that was something he hadn't truly felt in years.

But she also gave him flashes of images—were they dreams? Memories? He didn't know.

Sometimes when she absently sketched a new design on a discarded napkin with her blue eyes focused and intense he would get a flash of a memory—a skinny blonde man who was only just taller than Hayley, with softer blue eyes that still burnt as brightly as hers and with the same look on his face as he sketched something that caught his eye—and then she would look up with a fond smile and he would see double as the blonde man would always look up with a fond grin tugging his lips in his memories—he didn't know if the memories were true or false, but he hoped they were true.

Sometimes when she went toe-to-toe with someone, that would loom over her if she wasn't wearing her insane heels, and having to be pulled away if she knew, or just believed, she was in the right, he would get another flash of memory—the skinny blonde man who fought against men almost twice, sometimes three, times the size of him because he didn't know when to quit and had the courage of a man three times his size when it came to fighting for what was right.

Sometimes when she looked up at him with a smirk with a tad too much pride and eyes glittering with intelligence, her face was briefly replaced by a man with dark neat hair, dark eyes and a dark moustache with that same smirk and the same intelligence burning like the flame of liberty in his eyes but then he would blink and Hayley would be staring back.

Sometimes when she walked away from him with a certain purpose in her stride, she's replaced by a woman in a military uniform and shorter, lighter, brown hair that curled at the ends, a woman he knew that had lips painted a shade of red that was much like blood.

Though James liked the flashes of memories—they felt like memories, he hoped they were memories and Hydra hadn't fully destroyed them like he had once thought—he preferred when he just saw Hayley and her in all her glory.

Hair pulled back messily as she focused completely on giving life to a new robot she had built from scratch, her beaming smile when it gives its first chirp and the pride that made her glow as she looked up at him from across her work table.

Her face lax in sleep as she cuddled close to him, uncaring if it was his metal or flesh arm wrapped around her as she trusted him to keep her safe—unaware that he was meant to be her end.

Her body swaying with the music with her eyes half-lidded and her braid—now wrapped with different shades of blue to represent his eyes—moved with each swaying movement.

Ivory skin flushed with blue eyes bright as they stumbled off the latest roller-coaster, her laugh loud and free as she used his arm to support herself.

A gentleness to her face, that he knew she didn't show everyone, when she opened the box to show a ruby star necklace—not as expensive and flashy as some of her jewellery—that he gives her for her birthday and asked him help her put in on.

Hayley with too blue eyes that stared up underneath of her dark long lashes coyly, a smirk tugging at full lips as her slender and clever hands tugged him closer.

Ivory skin flushed a pretty pink as gasps and breathless moans fall from trembling lips, eyes like liquid blue fire as she seemed to pin his soul in place—or whatever soul he had left—with just one desperate look of lust and, dare he hope, love.

Thousands of different looks over too short of years—how much longer will Pierce humour him? When will he finally have to choose? Hydra or Hayley? The only place he had ever truly known or the woman he was almost certain that he loved? How much longer till she knew the truth and looked at him with betrayed midnight blue eyes filled with tears she'd refused to let him see fall? When will Pierce finally tire of letting him act human and order him to place a gun to her head? Would he pull the trigger? Could he pull the trigger that would snuff out the bright flame that was Hayley's life?

James knew he should have already pulled the trigger long ago, he knew that Hayley was aware of Hydra and she was slowly hunting them, tracking them like animals. He knew that she would never join Hydra—though he didn't know why—and he knew he had no real reason to keep acting like he needed more time to gain her trust when he had it and her heart in his hands.

But James couldn't and wouldn't pull the trigger, he couldn't kill the woman who brought him back to life, made him feel human and who he loved and she loved him back.

(Perhaps he already had an answer to his questions, he just wasn't ready to face it yet)

* * *

"Lee," Junior's voice was hesitate though determined as he spoke which caught her attention completely. "I think you should see this."

Hayley looked up and the screens of her labs became filled with various clips of news stations that made her stomach roll and her to stumble and lay her hands flat on one of her tables as she stared at the screens in deep refusal of understanding and dread.

"Billionaire Tony Stark—"

"Three confirmed deaths, a number of confirmed wounded. But nothing is known about the health of Tony Stark—"

"The convoy that was taking the Billionaire to the airport was attacked—"

"Rumours are saying that the terrorists were using Stark Industries weapons—"

"Eye-witnesses say that the Billionaire was caught in a bomb-blast—a bomb of his own making according to rumours—but no one is sure of his status at the moment—"

"Lieutenant Colonel J. Rhodes—known friend of Tony Stark—refuses to comment though we can tell you he was there when they were attacked—"

There was a funny ringing in her ears and black spots danced in front of her eyes and she dimly realised there was something she was forgetting to do but she couldn't think what it was as she stared with growing numbness at the screens.

"Aquarius?" Junior inquired as he observed his creator's melt-down.

The drone easily flew towards its creator and sprayed her with chilled water making her gasp and finally start breathing again—it restarted her breathing, but unfortunately didn't calm her down any.

He blacked out the windows as Hayley slipped to the floor, her hair, face and top wet, as her chest seized as she gasped for breathe—she would appreciate no one seeing her like this, Junior knew.

"Hydrogen, Helium, Lithium, Beryllium." Junior prompted her and she struggled to continue with the list as part of her world fell apart.


	12. Chapter 12

It was almost a rite of passage in the Stark family to attempt to commit suicide at least once—Howard had done it, Maria had done it and Tony had done it, now it was Hayley's turn.

Fury had confined her in isolation because of the epic fit she threw at him when he declared that SHIELD wasn't going to help find and recuse Tony Stark—she was pretty sure she had told Fury to fuck himself before Coulson shoot her in the back with his Taser when it seemed like she was going to physically attack him—and she woke in the blankness of one of the interrogation cells that she had designed herself so there was no escape—not even Junior could override the system to release her—with all her tools and gadgets removed from her—they had even taken her damn shoes—but for some reason they had left her with a gun—sometimes she despaired at the idiots that Fury deluded himself into thinking were actually competent that worked for either SHIELD and Hydra.

She ignored the gun as she knew she couldn't shoot at the door or itself lock—maybe that was why they let her keep it, because they knew it was the only rather useless thing that she wore on her—and decided to keep herself amused by shouting as many profanities at Fury, whoever was watching her, Coulson and his Taser, and anyone else she could think of—she even impressed herself with some of the insults that she came up with which was all sorts of amazing as Natasha had been one that taught her most of her insults.

Unfortunately she lost amusement quickly, which sucked because some of the insults she had come with would have to be remembered for a later date—she honestly thought sometimes she was too much like her father, granted a fouler-mouth and sexier version, with hints of Natasha thrown in for kicks.

She then amused herself by doing complex equations—being reduced to using her own blood as ink—one the plain white walls that surrounded her—god were they boring, no wonder everyone cracked in the end—which she knew would annoy Fury as the walls would have to be repainted because blood was a bitch to get rid of.

* * *

Coulson knew why isolation was sometimes used as torture, people naturally craved other humans after all. He also knew it would be too effective on Hayley—he had read over her file when Natasha was sent in to assess her.

Hayley didn't like being alone, she had never once been left truly alone in her whole life, and she didn't like being confined—Coulson would always remember when MIT called him up to complain about Natasha beating-up one of their students who had shut Hayley into a tiny cupboard—and hadn't been aware that the agents responsible for stripping her of anything useful, harmful or both, had the stupidity to leave her with a gun when it was clear she was emotionally unstable—to be fair, her father was kidnapped by terrorists and her boss, Director of one of the biggest government divisions that had their fingers in everything, wouldn't let her go and recuse him from them was quite upsetting—until the alarms rung loudly—she had been locked up a whole two days, completely alone—and he had almost gave himself a heart-attack with how hard he pushed himself into running towards her cells—and it was a cell no matter what Fury said, though at least he had given her one with an actual bed and a functioning toilet.

Coulson knew he would remember that sight until his dying day—and he would curse himself for helping put her in such a state, he knew she didn't cope well with panic, fear and such.

Hayley Collins was the youngest ever SHIELD agent, he knew that logically and yet it had never really sunk in until he saw her sprawled on the once white floor of her cell, dark red pooling around her dark hair as bright blue eyes stared up at the ceiling that had a spray of brain-matter and blood.

God, she was tiny, so young and fragile as Medic fluttered uselessly over her corpse.

Somewhere behind him, Natasha screamed—it was a long enraged grief-filled scream—before she pushed passed everyone and scooped Hayley up in her arms like she was a injured child, she snarled with a pale face and too-damp eyes at all the medics till they backed off and out of cell.

Clint slid silently in, eyes a stormy grey colour as he glared at everyone, and walked with almost silent foot-steps—his shoes made a horrible wet sound when he stepped in Hayley's blood that made most people wince—before he crouched down beside Natasha, one hand resting in silent comfort on her shoulder as she almost tenderly wiped the long hair off Hayley's eternally youthful and pale features while the other held Hayley's limp slender hand, and Coulson was struck with how much they looked like a family that was grieving the loss of their daughter.

And then something that he would always have trouble believing happened right in front of his eyes, Hayley's blue eyes widened in pained surprise as she gave a shuddering gasp of air as she came back from the dead.

* * *

Physically she was fine, there wasn't even a scar from when she blew her brains out the back of her head, but mentally wasn't the same thing—Natasha blamed part of herself as she had never thought of making sure that Hayley actually learnt to properly cope with her sometimes overwhelming emotions.

Fury was furious that someone had left her with a gun, furious that Hayley had taken her own life, furious that he would have to paint that cell again, furious that he didn't see something was fundamentally wrong with his agent when it was basically screaming in his face and relieved and pleased that she had come back from the dead.

Clint was actively hunting the idiot that left the gun with her while Natasha loomed, with all her Russian Assassin scariness in toe, protectively next to Hayley and Coulson was busy trying to find the best therapist for her.

Hayley, herself, admitted inwardly that she really lost control of her emotions and did something really stupid—but hey, now she knew that her Nanogenes could bring her back from the dead which was good.

* * *

"You put a gun in your mouth and blew your brains outs," James' voice was flat as he stared at her.

Hayley shifted on her bed—she was now confined to her spare apartment, forbidden from running off after her Dad, Natasha had gone through the whole apartment to remove every gun before she left and Junior was on Natasha and Clint's side.

"How do you know that?" she attempted to deflect back.

Blue eyes with just the hint of green burnt almost coldly and she fell silent, she had never seen James so cold or so angry before.

"It was for science?" she attempted weakly making James glare at her furiously.

Hydra couldn't kill her, James dimly realised as he stared at the twenty-five-year-old woman and knew what he had to do.

"Hayley, I've got something to tell you," he began.

* * *

Once when Hayley was seven, Rhodey had taken her up in one of the jets he could fly. The moment she was at the same level as the clouds, she had felt completely free as she stared down at the tiny patchwork that was all she could see of the world.

It was because of that one trip that sometimes when the world became too much, when life became too much, she would stand on the top of SHIELD or her apartment building and simply breathe and relax—one of the reason she thought she pulled the trigger was because she couldn't escape.

This time she needed a jolt of adrenaline so she sat on the edge of the roof, her feet daggling free as the heavens opened and poured down on her—which she thought was fitting—and watched the ant-sized people and cars go by under her.

Fuck, she scrubbed uselessly at her eyes—they probably looked like panda eyes with how smudged eyeliner and such. She had trusted him, had fucking loved him and he was part of Hydra—she had been a fucking mission to him!

She ignored the tiny voice in the back of her head that said the emotion when he begged her to listen to him, when he pleaded with her as she raged, when he told her he loved her and she hadn't been a mission since the first night, was true.

"You're not going to jump are you?" Clint's voice was almost teasing though there was an undertone of tension. "You're only allowed one suicide attempt a month."

She sniffed like a child and felt Clint settle beside her, his arm was warm as it wrapped around her slender shoulders.

"I've done something stupid," she told him as she rested her head on his broad shoulder. "I'm in love with a man that's a liar."

"We're all liars," Clint reminded her.

"He was meant to kill me," she countered.

"I was meant to kill Tasha," he countered back. "Do you think he loves you too?"

"Yes," she admitted, she knew James and knew he hadn't lied about his feelings for her—in a way he didn't lie about Hydra, he just neglected to tell her and she had her secrets too.

"Then you'll be able to work it out," he said like it was simple.

"He's with a group that killed my grandparents and want to kill me," she pointed out again just in case he forgot that part.

"But he told you about it?" he asked.

"Yes," she admitted.

"Then he seriously loves you if he's putting you above his group, Lee," he sighed. "Don't let murder and lies get in the way of your happiness. We'd have too short of lives filled with crap to pass up any chance of happiness, especially when that happiness shows loyalty to you over whatever group they are currently working for."

"Fury didn't mention that bit when he recruited me," she said.

"They never do," he squeezed her to his side briefly and they just watched the world pass by under their feet as they became soaked from the pouring rain.


	13. Chapter 13

The second apartment—the prop apartment—was almost what her apartment should be, would have been, if SHIELD wasn't part of her life.

Her apartment was built like a steel-safe—Fort Knox didn't have anything on her apartment—and was built because of her paranoia that SHIELD only added too—still she liked her apartment, or she had until she had been placed in isolation and decided she needed a bigger place to work in and that meant designing a new home with new gadgets.

Junior was already designing his own portable bot—a Butler-R-Bot really—which meant he wouldn't just be part of the walls and was able to travel around himself.

Her kitchen would need sensory countertops—it would weigh everything she needed it too, count her calories and such with a built-in music-station of course—automatic touch-less sensory taps, Shiva would need an update of course and she felt like making her lights able to change colour on a whim. Perhaps she should make a pancake machine, pan-free of course to save on washing up.

Perhaps just a transparent TV instead of making the whole window as one, a bunch villain chairs—perhaps she could get a cat so she could recreate a Bond-moment—self-sterilizing door handles would be good—she hated germs about as much as her Dad did—should she invest in solar-panels? Might save her some money considering the amount of electric that she used daily.

"I can almost hear you staring so hard," she spoke absently as her fingers danced across the tablet in her hand—her workshop/lab would rival the size of Dad's Malibu one, perhaps even beating it.

"Really?" James' voice was cautious in a way that she had never heard it before. "Because that makes little sense."

"The fact I'm still alive after putting a bullet through my head makes little sense too," she countered. "Little makes sense in real-life."

She heard him deliberately make noise as he settled in the seat across from her, James was like Natasha, like Clint, and sometimes like herself, being able to walk and move without noise—marks of an assassin, of a spy—but didn't look up, she needed time to collect herself.

Her heart was torn in two, one side raged in betrayal—_how could he? How could he lie to me?—_while the other side ached with love—_he didn't lie, he just didn't tell me everything_—and she wasn't sure which side of her heart would win out in the end. One side wanted to hit him until he bled while the other wanted to kiss him until she forgot her hurt, her betrayal, and just remembered how much she loved him and how special and loved and alive he made her feel.

For an hour she put off talking to him, feeling his gaze fixed on her face as she designed her new house and she even bought a plot of land on what was considered the countryside of New York and was near the old Stark Mansion—which hadn't been open up since they moved to LA—in that hour.

Finally Junior got annoyed at her putting it off and turned-off her tablet without warning. She almost huffed as she discarded onto the coffee table before leaning back in her seat—one leg tucked under her bottom and the other near her chest—and looking at James.

Oh god, did he always make her feel this way? Or was it just the absence of him for almost a week after his Hydra-bomb? Her feelings were being tempered by the sting of betrayal and rage simmering under her skin, skin that he had kissed and worshipped as he told her he loved her—

She cut off her thoughts, she was getting distracted.

"I'm never going to join Hydra, I'll hunt Hydra until its nothing more than ash, bitter memories and a foul taste in my mouth," she told him, blue staring into blue. "Are you going to kill me now?"

Shit, her voice cracked as she spoke. She had wanted to seem almost indifference as she gave that line like it meant nothing when really it meant everything.

"You're so stupid," he told her almost fondly as he stood and made his way towards her, he crouched in front of her and took her hands in his. "From the very first night, I haven't wanted to kill you. I can't kill you Hayley, I love you."

Tears rolled down her cheeks making her curse, they were brushed away by a cool metal thumb.

"No more secrets," she told him and he nodded in agreement. "My Dad is Tony Stark, Hydra killed my grandparents and I'm scared shitless as I don't know what's going to happen with my Dad and Fury won't let me go and find him because of world-relations or something stupid like that."

"I don't know if James is my real name, I think it is though, and I only have pieces of memories that don't make sense," he told her in return. "Being around you helps me remember sometimes, but I prefer the present with you and not the past."

"I never thought I would fall in love," she said softly.

"Neither did I," he pressed a kiss to her hands. "I love you."

"I love you too."

She threw herself at him and he easily held her close as their lips crashed together with force.

Trust had been broken, things hadn't fully been worked out, things were still unsaid, but they loved each other. And Clint was right, their lives were too short and filled with crap to let happiness drift you by because of silly things like murder, lies and secrets—only assassins and spies could think they are silly, she had thought idly.

* * *

James would always remember his first glimpse of Hayley, in the flesh, she was free in a way that called to the trapped part of him—that ached for freedom, which raged at Hydra, which wanted desperately to be free.

She was confident, sensual, with a brilliant spark of intelligence that never faded from her gaze—even in the throes of lust—and had an intense feeling about her that drew people in.

In the years, those feelings had grown stronger but he had seen the fragile side of her—the side that still made her lungs seize in panic-attacks and the side that led her to putting a gun in her mouth.

It was that side that called for his more protective nature—somehow it felt right protecting someone smaller than him, someone who didn't know when to quit and too much courage for their own good—though he knew she could take care of herself, he made sure she knew that she didn't have to, that it was alright to lean on him and she trusted him—he knew he had broken that trust, that he would have to earn it back.

Hydra had been all he knew for so long, but then Hayley came into his life. Hydra may have held his loyalty once—being all he had ever known after they wiped his memories away—but Hayley had his loyalty now and he would do anything to show her that and earn her trust back.


End file.
